Balto's Treasure Island
by Omnitrix 12
Summary: I got this idea a little from Treasure Planet and a little from Wishbone. When a strange sailor comes to say In the Admiral Benbow Inn, young Balto Hawkins' life is thrown into a tailspin of pirates, treasure, and danger. Some violence and alchohol.
1. A Guest at the Inn

**I want to say in advance that I have taken certain liberties with the original storyline of Treasure Island to better suit the characters of the story. I have also taken liberties with the characters; think of them as anthros in the likeness of Thundercats or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. If those familiar with the book this was based on, or the characters as they would be in their normal anatomy (i.e. mostly quadrupedal) find this strange, well, at least you've been warned.**

* * *

My name is Balto. Balto Hawkins. I grew up at the Admiral Benbow Inn, which was owned by my mother. She had her paws pretty full raising me without the help of my father, who had gone away when I was a pup about three months old, and sometimes strangers distrusted her for being a wolf. But she managed to run the inn smoothly and neatly enough to draw, if not a constant flow of customers, enough to provide us with the income we needed to get by.

I spent most of my time working at the inn doing various chores, but when I had free time I would go down to the harbor and look at ships. I liked to think that maybe, just maybe I might bump into my father, whom my mother said had gone away on a winter voyage because the inn was seriously in debt. He had been hoping to come back in a few months with enough money to pay off our loans, but no one had seen him since. By the time I was thirteen, my trips to the harbor were more out of an interest in ships than any hope of finding him, but I never stopped thinking in the back of my mind that maybe someday he would get off one of those ships and come home. Would he recognize me? Would I even remember him? I only knew him by his painting on the wall and by what Mother said about him, which wasn't much.

One day as I was cleaning tables in the dining room, a dog came in dragging a sea chest in a hand cart and carrying the usual waft of tar, tobacco, sea salt, and rum. He had fur as brown as the leather vest he wore, a tall strong figure, and a somewhat generous waist. I noticed a saber cut on his left cheek and briefly wondered how it had gotten there. He looked around and then sang in a high, cracked voice,

"_Fifteen men on a dead man's chest,_

_Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum!"_

He looked straight at me and called roughly for a glass of rum. Before I could fetch it for him, he snatched one from another guest and gulped it down. I quickly ran to the tap and filled two mugs- one to replace the guest's, the other to keep handy in case the greedy newcomer wanted seconds. I was used to unruly sailors coming in, but mother always said to treat them with courtesy as long as they didn't break anything. I suspect this was because she had one of those looks that could make all but the rowdiest poltroons sober up at least a little. And if that didn't work, there was the gun she kept behind the counter (never loaded, but they never knew).

I ran back to the door and replaced the guest's drink with a quiet apology. The old sailor finished his drink and looked down at me. "This be a handy cove," he said with a pleasant growl in his voice. "Much company, mate?"

I shook my head. "Hardly any at the moment, sir," I replied.

He laughed. "Well then, this be just the place I need!" He strode over to the counter as I followed behind. "I be a plain man," he said as he walked. "Bacon, eggs, and rum is what I want, and that cliff fer watchin' ships."

"That should be quite easy, sir," I replied, running the empty rooms through my head. "I think we have a nice room looking right in that direction."

He beamed. "Right perfect," he growled. "But enough o' this 'sir' talk. Call me captain."

"Aye, captain," I agreed.

Mother came in from the kitchen wiping her paws on her apron. "Balto," she said in that calm voice of hers, "I see we have a guest."

"Yes, mother," I nodded.

"Yer boy here was jus' telling me you've a room lookin' out to sea."

Mother checked the list she always kept on the counter. "Yes we do," she confirmed.

"I'll take it," growled the captain firmly. He reached into his pocket and slapped down three or four gold pieces. "Just tell me when that runs out!" he laughed.

While Mother checked the coins with her thumbnail to make sure they were real, I hurried to show the captain his room and where he could put his sea chest. It was one of my favorite rooms, a front one with a big window looking out over the cliffs and the vast blue ocean.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver piece. "Would ye like this, lad?" he asked.

My eyes grew wide. "Yes, very much, captain." A silver piece was more than I usually made in two months!

He laughed. "Well, you can have it then! Jes' keep a sharp eye out for…" he stopped and his expression fell as if he were about to utter the name of the Devil himself. "… fer a sailor with one leg," he finished. "Yeh do that, lad, and I'll give you a silver fourpenny the first of every month, jes' like clockwork."

_One leg?_ I thought. _Should be easy enough to spot._ "Gladly, sir!" I agreed eagerly. "I mean captain." My tail was slapping the air like a windmill in a storm.

He flipped me the coin. "There you are. Now, if you sees such a dog, be sure and tell me straightaway, clear?"

I nodded as I caught the coin. "Aye-aye, captain!" And I left to go show Mother what he had given me.

"A silver fourpenny every month?" she asked when she saw it.

"Yes," I confirmed handing her the coin so she could check it herself.

She tested the coin with her thumbnail, then gave it back and put a paw to her chin. "This sailor must be either a good friend or a deadly foe," she observed. "And whichever it is, it could be trouble for us if he turns up."

I remembered the look on the captain's face. "Probably enemies," I said. "He looked like he was talking about Blackbeard."

Mother nodded. "Well, if you see the dog, be sure to tell the captain, and me."

* * *

**History note: In the time when this story takes place, around the mid-1800s, coins made of gold or silver were in common use. These metals were so soft in a pure state that they could be tested for authenticity by biting or pressing with one's fingernail to see if it left an impression. So much for collector value.**

**Also at that time, alchohol was a must for innkeepers, even those who, like Aniu, would rather the stuff didn't exist. No alchohol meant no customers, and it could sometimes be a health essential as well. Clean water was not always available, so sometimes a little wine had to be added to kill pathogens.**

**So, who is this strange sailor, and why is he so worried about a one-legged sailor?**


	2. Strange Habits and Stranger Company

**At first, this sailor who came to stay at the Admiral Benbow might pass for just another sea dog whose had one trip too many 'round the old Bermuda Triangle. But time would tell just how unusual this visitor was.**

* * *

Months passed, and the captain paid me every month as promised. He stayed on at the inn as the bright summer changed to a blistering winter. But while the seasons changed, his habits never did. Every day, as rhythmically as the sun and the tide, he went out to the cliff with a brass spyglass to watch for ships. In the evenings he would sit in the dining room drinking rum and telling all sorts of "fish stories," as my mother called them- tales at once wonderful and terrible, full of pirates and hanging and buried treasures vast enough to fill a room from floor to ceiling. Many of them included deadly pirates, cursed gold, ghosts, and monsters of the sea. My mother worried that he would drive off the other customers with these tales, and some guests certainly did tend to leave when he got too rowdy and made everyone join him in various ship songs, chiefly the one about the fifteen men. But at the same time, a number of guests were drawn to his wild tales, and many people came night after night to hear them. I think it must have been the business from these customers that lessened Mother's persistence in getting payment, since the gold pieces had run out long ago.

As for myself, while I wasn't unhappy about the extra business, I can't say I liked his stories as much. At first I enjoyed listening to them while I cleaned tables. But when I tried to sleep on those nights, I had nightmares like I'd never imagined a dog could have. I dreamed of massive squids and serpents and monsters that looked like lobsters, but were so big they could crush an entire ship in a single claw. I dreamed about storms with waves as high as mountains, and ghosts seeking vengeance on those who had killed them. But my worst nightmares were about the one thing even the captain, or Billy Bones as I had come to know him, feared – the seafaring dog with one leg.

I remember one particular dream about him. In it, I opened the door to throw out a bucket of water I had used to scrub the floor. As I did, I heard a great booming sound coming from the bridge. I looked and saw a sight that made every hair on my body stand up and salute. Leaping toward me was a giant beast like a werewolf, dressed in ragged sailor's clothes. It was twenty feet tall and had claws as long as its fingers, with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth each as big as my arm. It was dressed like a sailor, and it had one massive leg beneath the middle of its body, which it used to travel in massive leaps and bounds. It was coming toward me with fire in its eyes. My immediate reaction was to try to get inside, but the door had shut behind me and wouldn't open. I tried to run down the street, but the sailor kept getting closer, closer, its claws stretching out toward me. I have thanked God a hundred times over that I woke at that moment, or I might not have woken at all.

One day, a guest of ours took sick and my mother called for Doctor Boris Livesey, an old Russian goose with a firm demeanor which he attributed to years of tough work. Doctor Livesey came late one afternoon to see his patient, and stayed afterwards to eat dinner at the inn. With him were two young polar bears, Muk and Luk, whom he referred to as his interns. I think this was more a term of affection than an actual description, since the two bears didn't seem to have enough intelligence between them for an apprentice chimney sweep.

After his dinner, he told Mother that the guest would need his meals brought up to him for a week or so. He was just in the middle of saying what certain foods the patient should not be given until he was well when, from across the room, old Billy piped up his tireless song:

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest-

_Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!_

_Drink and the Devil had done fer the rest-_

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

The doctor's face flashed with annoyance, but he ignored the dog and went on talking. "He should get plenty of fresh fruit," he advised, "especially apples. He-"

The captain slapped the table. "Silence between the decks!" he roared. "Silence, now, or I'll have yer head!"

Doc turned on him with an irate expression and snapped, "If you keep drinking rum, the vorld vill soon be short a scoundrel!"

"Swing yeh for a brainless lout," retorted the captain.

"Now see here!" Muk burst out. "You oughtn't talk that way about…"

Billy pulled a sailor's knife from his belt. "I'll pin ye to the wall if ye don't close yer yap!" he yelled.

Muk immediately tried to hide behind Doctor Boris. Since he was roughly three times the bird's size, it didn't help much.

Boris' face quivered a little, and his voice dropped a notch. "There is a sick man upstairs who needs peace and qviet." Eyeing the knife he added, "Especially peace. Now put that knife avay, or I vill see to it that you hang."

Bones paused. He muttered something about doctors and reclined grumbling into his seat.

"Now listen, and listen vell," continued Doc, bolder now that the knife had been lowered. "I'll be in and out of here for a few days, and I'll be keeping an eye on you. Any complaints about you and I promise, on my honor, the judge shall hear of it."

The captain was silent for the rest of the evening and, to my surprise, the remainder of the week.

Then, on a cold morning in mid-January, another sailor came into the inn. No missing leg, but he did have two fingers gone from his left hand. He was skinny and nasty-looking, with mangy black fur that looked as if it hadn't seen a bath in the last ten years at least. He demanded at once to see "my old shipmate, Bill." The captain was out looking at ships, so the sailor made me wait with him until the captain returned. "Good ol' Billy Bones!" he greeted in a loud, bold voice as the captain finally came in.

Billy's face turned ashen gray, and his features seemed to wither as if he had aged a century in a matter of seconds. He resembled one of the ghosts in his stories, and from the way he stared at the other sailor you would have thought he was staring at one of the same. "Black Dog!" he gasped.

* * *

**Who _is_ this guy? And what does he want with the Captain? Well, I'm afraid the only way to find out is to keep reading.**


	3. A Stroke of Bad Luck

**When we left off, a strange black dog by the name of... well, Black Dog had just come into the Admiral Benbow, and the Captain didn't seem at all happy to see him.**

* * *

"Aye, Black Dog it is, here to see his old friend," the dog grinned. "Now what say we sit down and talk square, like old shipmates?"

The captain shakily sat down while I stood there, unsure what to do. Black Dog scowled at me and spat, "Mind yer own business, brat!" I quickly busied myself cleaning up the other tables, keeping as far away from the two sea dogs as I could. I hardly heard any of their discussion until Billy pounded his fist so hard it shook the table. "No!" he roared at his "old shipmate." "No and no twice, by thunder! If it comes to swinging, swing all, says I!" He and the other dog jumped up, drew their cutlasses, and began to fight. It was a brief but intense spectacle as they dueled, until Billy managed to knock Black Dog's sword out of his grip. Black Dog fled in terror, with Billy close behind him still hacking at the air just inches short of the sailor's hairy hide. As Black Dog threw himself out the door, Billy swung one last furious stroke that would have killed him if it had struck home. But instead the sword caught in the signpost above the door, and Black Dog got away.

My mother came in, drawn by the shouting, and saw Billy pulling his cutlass out of the signboard. "Mister Bones!" she snapped. "I have had enough…"

But the captain didn't seem to hear her. He pulled his weapon out of the board, turned, and said slowly, "Rum." He staggered as he spoke, leaning on a table for support.

"Are you hurt?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Rum! I gotta get away from…" but then he slumped to the floor, his sword falling to the ground with a clatter beside him.

I looked at mother. "Should we take him to his room?"

She shook her head. "We'd better not move him if we can help it or we could make him worse."

I certainly agreed with that, though it didn't look like he _could_ get much worse. His face, what I could see through his fur at least, was a hideous shade of blue, his tongue was hanging out, and his breath was coming in loud, ragged gasps.

The door opened again. Fortunately it was no sailor this time, but the doctor coming to check on his patient. He came in as if nothing was wrong until he spotted Billy lying on the floor. "Bwa!" he yelped, recoiling at the sight.

"There was a fight!" I said rapidly. "He was hurt!"

Boris squinted at Billy. "Peh," he muttered scornfully. "A stroke is vhat he had, just like I said he vould. How long has he been like this?"

"About two minutes," answered Mother.

"Well, we may still have time to save this rascal's life. Would one of you get me a basin? Preferably one you do not intend to use for anything else."

My mother ran to the kitchen and brought a basin, which she handed to the doctor.

"Thank you," he nodded as he took it. He set it down and proceeded to rip Billy's sleeve. I could see "Here's Luck," "Fair Wind," and "Billy Bones His Fancy," all neatly tattooed on his arm. "Balto, I may need some assistance in a moment, so stay close at hand. You're not afraid of blood, are you?"

I gulped a little. "Not much," I replied, knowing what he was about to do. He was going to bleed Billy, meaning he was going to drain some blood from a vein in his arm and, hopefully, remove poison from his body in the process. I'd had it done to me once when I was sick, and it wasn't pleasant.

"Good," he replied. He took a small scalpel and made a careful opening in Billy's arm, using the basin to catch the blood. Turning his head away, he instructed, "Tell me vhen ve have drained a pint or so."

Nauseated, I waited until there was about a pint in the basin and told him. Looking at the blood as little as possible, he quickly bandaged the dog's foreleg and put the blood well out of sight. "Help me move this scoundrel," he said. "Once we have gotten him to his room, we'll dump that blood down the sewer."

* * *

**Eeugh. Bleeding was a common medical practice up to the late 1900s. It was believed that by removing "bad blood," believed to contain poison, from the body, one could treat illnesses. Ironically, this was often done even in cases where severe blood loss was already the case, like one man who had been stabbed in the chest and fainted. Luckily it is no longer practiced except for certain rare situatons, and those who do it know a lot more about their work.**

**Now, while they move the captain, I'll be waaay over there. Barfing.**


	4. Captain Flint

**The captain took quite a heavy stroke during that fight. Let's see how he's getting along. By the way, if the intros and trail-offs start to get annoying, let me know. I'll understand.**

* * *

Billy opened his eyes, blinked, and made a clumsy effort to raise himself. "Where's Black Dog?"

"There's no one by that name here," Boris replied. "You have been drinking rum and had a stroke, just as I said. Now listen, and listen well. One drink of rum von't kill you. But if you take one you vill take another, and another, and then you vill have another stroke. Keep it up, and you are a dead dog for sure! Understand?"

Billy nodded groggily as we helped him up to his room, where he immediately collapsed on the bed. "Come with me, Balto," said the goose. As soon as the door was shut, he turned to me. "He should be qviet for a while. He vill not be able to rise for a day or two, and it vould be best if he stayed where he is for at least a veek. No rum for him, do you understand? Another stroke like this one, and there vill be nothing I can do."

I agreed, but later the captain asked for rum when I went to check on him. I explained what doctor Boris had said and he scoffed. "Doctors is swabs, every blighting one of 'em," he growled. "Look at me, Balto m'boy, at how my fingers twitches. I be havin' the horrors, I am. I sees old Flint himself in the corner behind yeh, plain as print."

I turned, but there was no one behind me. "Flint?" I asked, turning to the captain again. "Who's Flint?"

"Not is, matey, was. He was a pirate, and a murderous one. Had him enough gold to fill a ship's hold and ballast and spillin' over the decks, he did. But I won't see him there if I has a little rum. E'en the doctor said one glass won't kill me." He reached in his pocket and fished out a gold piece. "I give ye this for a drink o' rum."

I didn't want his money anymore, but in the end I got him our smallest glass, with only a few drops of rum and the rest water to keep him quiet so he wouldn't disturb our other sick guest. He drank it greedily, too clouded up to know the difference, and said in a voice that was almost a gargle, "I best be off now." But just like Doc had said, he was too weak to get up. After several failed attempts he cursed and grumbled, "The doctor's done me in." He took a shaky breath and added, "If I can't get away and they tips me the black spot, they be after me sea-chest. Boy, if they tips me the black spot, run to this doctor swab and 'ave him pipe all hands. They'll find Flint's crew at the Admiral Benbow."

"The black spot?" I echoed. The only Spot I'd ever known was white and grey. Pretty friendly guy- for a Mastiff, at least.

"It be a summons, lad," he wheezed. "It be a black spot on a bit o' paper, meanin' the crew'll turn against me. They wants what's mine. I was Flint's first mate, and I be the only one that knows the place." With a raspy breath that sounded like carriage wheels on cobblestone, he added, "Only one alive, that is. Flint gave me the map when he lay dying." He grabbed my hand and gripped it with all of the little strength he had. "But don't go nowhere," he whispered. "Not unless they tips me the spot, or unless yeh sees the one-legged sailor."

I gave him my solemn promise. "Nowhere," I agreed.

* * *

**Let that be a lesson to you: Don't drink and swordfight. Or drive. Or... hmm, come to think of it, there's not much that drinking does go well with, is there?**

**Things are getting pretty dangerous here. First fears of a one-legged sailor, then this Black Dog, and now Billy was pals with this Captain Flint? Who's next, Davey Jones?**


	5. Pirates!

**I think from now on I'll post more as people comment on the new additions. So the sooner you comment, the sooner you get more.**

* * *

Over the next few days the Captain seemed to recover, if only a little. He limped downstairs for his meals, but he rarely spoke.

Then, several weeks afterwards, a ragged old beggar-a weasel-came tapping along the road with a green cloth tied over his eyes. From his cane I knew he must be blind, and I briefly wondered if the cloth was there on doctor's orders to perhaps let his eyes recover, or if it was there by his own choice to hide whatever injury had blinded him.

"Will any kind friend tell a poor old blind chap where he be?" he asked to the air.

I winced. His voice reminded me of a rusty hinge. "The Admiral Benbow Inn of Black Cove," I answered.

"I hear a voice," he creaked. "A young voice. Will ye be a kind young friend and lead me inside?"

I hesitated, since by this time I was more than a little wary of strangers. But I reasoned that if he was blind he couldn't aim a gun or a knife, so I took his paw to lead him in. The instant my hand touched his, he gripped it like a steel vise. "Now, boy," he hissed, sounding like a snake with its tail caught in a rusty hinge, "Take me to the captain or I'll crack your wrist like a chicken's neck."

"Ow, OW!" I protested. "Fine, I'll take you to him!" I was tempted to lead him to the nearest horse trough and knock him in, but decided this would be a bad idea.

I led him to where the old bucaneer was sitting up in bed. "Here he…" I gasped, but the old beggar had already released my hand, having smelled his prey. "Bill!" he screeched. "Here's an old friend!"

The captain, who had been on the mend, instantly looked a thousand times worse than he ever had (which I've got to say, I would have thought was impossible). His face turned as white as the sheets on which he lay, and his mouth hung open like a cave. "Blind Pew!" he gasped.

"Don't move an inch, old scallawag," Pew ordered. "I can't see, but I can hear a finger stirring. Now, stick out your right hand. Pup, bring his right hand near to me left."

Bill and I both obeyed, and as the hands passed each other I saw Pew pass something to Bill. Then he turned and bolted like a horse that heard a thunderclap. He must have had an excellent memory, for he scarcely used his cane even on the stairs.

The captain gasped at the piece of paper. "The black spot!" he cried. "They give me six hours. We'll finish 'em yet, lad!" He sprang to his feet, tottered, and fell. He'd been hit by a stroke, just as Doc had warned us. I felt for a pulse, but the results only confirmed my fear. He was stone dead.

I ran to tell Mother what had happened, and she frowned. She didn't cry over him – Mother always seemed to be able to put her emotions to one side until the right time to let them out, even where my father was concerned, and she had little sorrow to spare for a drunken sailor. "The captain owed us money," she noted as she dried her hands on a dishtowel, "And his shipmates won't leave us anything. We'll have to take it ourselves."

"Mother!" I protested. "These sailors will be here soon! We have to go, _now!_"

But Mother was firm. Money was needed to run the Benbow, and the Benbow was all we had to live on. More important, it was one of the few things she had left of my father. So with a determined gait, she strode up to the captain's room and crouched by his body, searching his pockets. Her search only turned up a knife, some coins that were nowhere near enough for his debt, a thimble, some thread, and a few big needles. After a moment's thought she reached for his neck and pulled out the key, hung on a thread and tucked under the his shirt. "Put a sheet over him for now," she told me as she got up and walked out.

With a grimace, I pulled a sheet from the bed and covered up the captain's body before following Mother up to the attic, where we kept the chest. I caught up to her at the attic door, and we went in together.

Bill's sea chest was in the corner, covered with a layer of dust that evidenced the dog's long stay. She unlocked it, causing the stench of tar and tobacco to fill the small room. I gagged. Hadn't the captain ever heard of potpourri?

Mother, unperturbed by the odor, reached in and extracted a pouch of money. "I'll only take what he owed us," she uttered.

"Uh, I don't know if you got this, but we have _pirates_ after us," I reminded her. Panic had made me edgy. "Might I suggest we just take the money and run for it?"

But Mother was an honest woman, and insisted on taking only the exact amount – not a copper more or less, a task that required more than two hours to accomplish. The captain must have been one heck of a traveler, because that pouch had every kind of money in it I'd ever heard of and then some. "I wish your father was here," she murmured. "He knew more about money than I do."

I wondered what she meant until she started to sort the money she extracted into two piles. English coins in one and everything else in another.

"Oh, no," I muttered. This could take all day, and we had less than six hours!

After what seemed like an interminably long time, I heard a tapping sound outside. Peeking out the window, I saw Blind Pew coming up the road with a whole gang of dogs, weasels, foxes, even a wolverine or two, his cane tapping against the street like the knocking sound in old houses which I'd heard is a sign of death. Something told me they weren't here for a biscuit and a game of fetch. "They're early!"

Mother scooped the foreign coins back into the pouch and took the English ones she had counted out. "This will have to do," she sighed.

I glanced into the chest and grabbed the first thing my eyes fell upon, an oilcloth package. "I'll take this to make it even."

As we ran downstairs, the sound of furniture being thrown around announced the pirates' arrival. "To Bill's cabin, mates!" screeched Pew. "And find that map!"

_Map?_ I wondered. I was jerked out of my thoughts when Mother grabbed me by the arm. "Let's go!" she cried.

I nodded, and we bolted for the back door. "I just hope they don't have us surrounded!" I remarked.

* * *

**Who _are_ these guys anyway? Do they have the inn surrounded? Let's hope not, because I don't think they're going to take prisoners.**


	6. The Lookout

**The Admiral Benbow is being stormed by bloodthirsty pirates, bent on getting their paws on some kind of map. Balto and Aniu are fleeing for their lives, hoping to get out before the buccaneers surround the place or catch them inside. Could thing get any worse?**

**Do you have to ask?**

* * *

By now it was dark out, and I think from the screams that the guests must have been fleeing into the night. Mother and I ran for the bridge that led over the river and into the village. With a desperate leap to cover the last stretch, we slid down the bank and lay there, barely daring to peek up over it to watch the inn. We didn't have long to watch, though. A whistle came from the other side of the bridge, piercing the night. At first I thought it was a signal that someone had found us, and I could smell by the spike in Mother's fear that she thought the same. Especially when one of the pirates cried, "The lookout!" I thought we were done for, but the words "Avast! Run for it!" followed and bolstered my courage. Especially when they were followed in turn by the sound of galloping hooves.

"Wait!" I heard Pew scream. "Johnny, Black dog, don't leave old Pew! Oh, if I had eyes!"

I couldn't see what happened, but I heard galloping hooves and a scream from Pew, a frantic cry of pain and terror. I later learned that in his confusion, Pew had run right under the horses and been trampled to death.

"Come on," I told Mother after the ruckus had died down. "The town watch must have chased them off." We climbed the bank and headed for the inn.

"Hold!" cried one of the dogs on horseback, swinging a long gun barrel in our direction.

"Wait!" I cried, throwing up my hands.

Mother barely flinched. "I am Mrs. Hawkins, the owner of this inn."

The dog-a dalmatian- squinted at us and coughed. "Oh, sorry Ma'am." He lowered the gun. "Do you know who those bandits were?"

"They were pirates," she replied. "And I'll be glad to explain everything after my son and I have put things in…" she opened the door and screamed. Looking past her, I saw the reason.

The kitchen was a mass of flames.

* * *

**Didn't I tell ya?**


	7. The Map

**The Admiral Benbow has been burned, the guests have fled, and Balto and his mother now have no income and no home. And all they have to show for it is an oilcloth package.**

**What's in that thing anyway?**

* * *

A bucket brigade was hastily assembled, but by the time the fire was put out most of the Admiral Benbow Inn had been destroyed. Mother was devastated. She wouldn't say why, but I already knew. My father had built the inn years before I was born, as a home and a source of income for the two of them and the family they hoped to have. Not only that, but in their spite the pirates had slashed the portrait of my father to ribbons. Two of the five things Mother had to remember him by were gone forever. Only her ring, her locket, and I were left.

A member of the town watch tried to comfort her. "There's enough left to rebuild," he reassured her. But he didn't understand. Even if it were rebuilt, it wouldn't be the same anymore. All the loving work my father had put into it – the carved panels, the ornate handrails, all of it was gone forever. And besides, any effort to rebuild would leave us penniless.

Then a greyhound strode up. "Are you Ms. Hawkins, the owner of this establishment?" he asked.

"Mrs. Hawkins," she corrected him. Mother could never stand to be considered a widow, no matter the circumstances. "And yes, I am."

"I'm Mr. Dance, head of the town revenue service." The revenue men were in charge of catching smugglers. "I need you to come with me."

"Where to?" I asked.

"Mr. Trelawney needs to know about this," Mr. Dance replied. "If you'll please come with me, Ms… er, Mrs. Hawkins." It sounded more like a command than a request.

"I'm coming too," I asserted.

He stared at me. "And who are you?"

"My son," Mother explained. "He should come."

Mr. Dance nodded. "Well then, come along."

Mr. Trelawney, or Squire Trelawney as most people called him, was a somewhat elderly Saint Bernard who served as the local judge. People called him Squire out of respect because squires had lots of money and valuable estates, and Mr. Trelawney had both.

We came to his house during dinner and, to my surprise, found doctor Livesey visiting as well. I was famished, but Mother was so upset that when the squire told us to sit down and have something to eat, I was the only one who actually ate.

As I ate and Mother brooded over the situation, we told the doctor and Mr. Trelawney about the whole business. From the bird's expression as he listened, you would have thought he was listening to one of Billy Bones' fish stories. The squire's baggy jowels didn't show much expression, but he too seemed very intrigued.

When I reached the end of the tale, the squire cleared his throat. "Well," he said in his thick, deep voice, "I hold them blameless for running down that blind scoundrel. It was accident, and he was a w-" I think he was about to say "wolf's head," a common expression for outlaws and criminals, but he stopped short with a glance at Mother. "Wicked fellow," he amended.

"But who vere these dogs?" asked the doctor. "And vhat vere they after?"

I nodded. "I think they were after a map," I explained. "And I'm not sure who they were, but Billy Bones said something about them being Flint's crew."

The squire choked on a mouthful of steak and had to be pounded on the back by one of his servants. "Who did you say?" he wheezed when he finally recovered his breath.

"I said he said something about them being Flint's crew."

The squire was all business now. "Do you have this thing they were after?"

"I might." I pulled it out of my pocket. "Here," I handed it to him.

Doctor Boris took the oilcloth package. "Vhat have you heard of this Flint person?"

"Heard of him?!" the Saint Bernard cried. "_Heard_ of him?! He was a terror! A monster! They say the Devil trembled at his name! And his treasure made Blackbeard's look like this brass candlestick!" He pointed to a candleholder which sat on the table. "Blackbeard was a child compared to Flint! He was…"

"Calm down, sqvire! You're talking so fast I can't get a vord in. Now if this contains a clue to Flint's treasure hoard, vill it amount to much?"

"Amount to much?!" cried the squire. "It will amount to this: I will personally commission a ship and crew, and we will find that treasure if we search for a year! And now, Balto, may we open this package?"

Open it? _Open_ it? "Yes, please do!" I answered, caught up in the squire's excitement in spite of myself.

He asked the servants to clear a section of the table, then asked them to leave. Boris laid the package down and delicately untied the strings holding the oilcloth shut. Opening the package, we found two things: an old book, and a sealed envelope. The wax seal bore the sign of a skull with two swords crossed below it. Despite my excitement to break the seal and open the envelope, he examined the book first. "Hmm. Looks like an account book," he noted. "Every time they robbed a ship, he wrote the date, their position, and his share. Qvite tidy for a pirate. Now for the other."

"May I?" I asked. Doctor Livesey extended the envelope to me, and with trembling hands I broke the wax and opened the envelope. Inside was a folded piece of paper. "It _is_ a map!" I practically howled in excitement.

The doctor and squire got up (the latter with such energy he almost knocked the table over) and came around to have a look as I spread out the parchment. The map showed an island nine miles high (that is, from North to South), five miles wide, and shaped like a fat dragon standing up. On it there were three Xs marked in red ink. One said, "Bulk of treasure here," a second said, "Bar silver," and the third was marked, "Arms." Latitude, longitude, and landmarks were all marked, and on the back were directions to all three spots.

"That settles it!" declared the squire. "We sail for Treasure Island!"

Mother gave me one of her "oh-no-you-don't" looks. "Balto, don't even ask. I'm not letting you go along."

"But Mother!" I protested. "With half a share of that treasure we could rebuild the whole Admiral Benbow twice and still live like royalty the rest of our lives!"

"Hang the treasure!" she snapped, speaking much more strongly than I'd ever heard. "The sea already took your father away, and now you want me to risk you too?"

The doctor cleared his throat. "Actually," he interjected, "Balto does have some right to…" he stopped under a withering look from Mother. The kind which, she always said, only my father had never backed down from, which was part of why she had married him. Awkwardly, the doctor shrugged. "But… he is your son."

"Mrs. Hawkins," the squire put in, "The men who attacked you will likely continue to persecute you and Balto. I think he would be safer if we brought him with us."

Mother started to open her mouth, then stopped. "What makes you say that?"

"For one thing," he replied, "Two are more easily tracked down than one. And once we were over the horizon, it would be virtually impossible for them to follow us."

Mother began to nod slightly. "I see," she admitted.

"Madam," pledged the squire. "If we do not return him safe and whole, let it stand on our reputations forever."

"Ve?" asked the doctor, largely unnoticed.

Mother frowned.

"Please?" I begged.

She shook her head. "I must be mad," she groaned, "But alright."

* * *

**("Mad" doesn't mean angry in this case, it means crazy)**

* * *

I hugged her. "Don't worry, Mother," I promised. "I'll be fine."

She shook her head and returned the embrace with distinct uncertainty. "You'd better be," she replied.

"Vell, good luck on your voyage," offered the doctor.

"_Our_ voyage, you mean," the squire replied. "You'll be coming too."

Boris choked even though he wasn't eating. "You said _vhat?"_ he cried.

"Our voyage," repeated the squire. "Doctor, find someone else to tend your patients. A good ship needs a doctor on board, and I pick you."

"You are crazy!" Boris cried. "Vhat about pirates, storms, vhales, sharks, sea monsters…"

Sighing, I tapped Boris on the shoulder. Momentarily distracted from his ranting, he turned to me. "Vhat!"

I simply beckoned him to follow and led him out the door to a spot from which the remains of the Admiral Benbow could be seen outlined in the moonlight. Mother and the squire followed too, and I could hear my Mother trying to hold back more crying at the sight. With a paw on top of his head, I pointed the doctor's gaze from the inn to my Mother. Now he knew why I was going. It wasn't for the gold. I was going for my home, and for Mother.

He turned around soberly and walked back to the squire's house. Once we were all back and the door was shut, he faced us. "So," he replied, "Let's go get the treasure."

"Then you're coming?" asked the squire.

He raised one wing feather. "I do have vone thing I am still vorried about." He pointed at Squire Trelawney. "You. The men after us are dangerous, and you cannot hold your tongue!"

I considered pointing out his previous outburst, but Mr. Trelawney nodded. "You are right. I will be as silent as the grave."

* * *

**Well, things are finally looking up for Balto. A sea voyage, enough gold to start over, and a chance to get away from thos pirates!**

**Wait a minute. Fleeing pirates by going to sea? Uh, maybe they should have listened to Aniu after all.**


	8. Memories and a Promise

**Balto has a conversation with his mother about someone very close to both of them...**

**I wrote this chapter to emphasize the emptiness that comes when the father in a family is, for whatever reason, not there or else not involved. I got the idea to incorporate that concept, not from Treasure Island, but from _Treasure Planet._ It's a problem I'm well accquainted with, coming from a divided home myself.**

* * *

If the squire was excitable, he was certainly efficient too. Within the week he told us he had found a ship and crew, right down to the cook. Mother, who said that she was of no mind to go on a sea voyage, made arrangements to stay with a friend of hers until we returned and the inn had been rebuilt.

I'll never forget the conversation we had the night before I left. We were in the parlor at the home of her friend, on seats facing each other by the fire. Our host, an old Raven named Ebony, had gone to sleep long before, but Mother and I stayed up. She kept prodding the fire restlessly with an iron poker, sending sparks drifting up the chimney. The smell of burning logs filled the room with an aroma that made me long for the parlor of the inn, but it was thrown off by the sharp scent of Mother's unease. Finally I broke the silence. "Mother?" I asked. "What's bothering you?"

Her shoulders lifted as she drew a deep breath, then sagged as she let it out. "I still can't believe I'm letting you go on this voyage," she said. "I keep thinking you'll end up disappearing like your father."

I sighed too. Mother never seemed to lose that emptiness in her heart where my father had once been. In quiet moments, I often caught her withdrawing into herself like water flowing down into an empty well. I too often felt lacking because I had never really met my father. And over the years, I had learned there was one way to, if only for a while, ease that emptiness in us both. "Tell me about him," I requested.

She smiled peacefully as if she could feel him there beside her. "He was the finest man I ever met," she said. "Wolf or dog, there was no one quite like him. He was gentle, and never spoke roughly or raised his voice to me. Yet in that gentleness there was great strength, more than any dog or any other kind of creature. He never backed down, even when I gave him the look I use on unruly sailors. And I did use it once or twice to test him, to see if he was good enough, someone I could respect as he said a wife should respect her husband, for I knew early on that he would one day ask to marry me. He indeed proved he was more than worthy of it, and I did respect him. Even when I doubted him, I submitted to his wishes, and he never once proved false."

She grew silent, and her head drooped down so that I thought she had fallen asleep. Then she lifted her chin a little and raised the gold locket that she kept around her neck. She opened it, and I could see the picture within, of the two of them standing together. He was wearing a fine suit, she a beautiful white dress, as white as her own fur. "He gave this to me as an engagement gift," she murmured, "And the portrait was painted not long after we were wed. He said that as long as I lived, he would never part from me, and if he ever did, he would return." Her voice grew sad. "He repeated that promise often, last of all when he went on that voyage." She was silent then, and I thought she might start to weep. I got to my feet and walked to her, putting a paw on hers. With father gone, I was the man of the family now, and young as I was, I had to comfort my mother as best I could.

"He'll be back," I whispered. "If he was as good as you say, he'd never go back on a promise." As she looked up I made eye contact and held her gaze. "He will come back," I repeated, "And so will I. I promise, Mother."

* * *

**That's a noble promise Balto's making. Let's just hope he can keep it.**


	9. An Unexpected Shipmate

**As Balto prepares for his harrowing voyage, the air is so thick with excitement and promise you could cut it with a pirate's sword. But what surprises lie in store for him?**

* * *

"Once?" Muk asked.

Squire Trelawney nodded. "Yes, he was wounded in a battle long ago when he was just a lad – and he still kept at it for several years! Imagine! Now he runs a tavern near the harbor called the Spy-Glass, but you should have seen him jump at the chance to be back at sea. He even helped me get the whole crew together from scratch."

I must admit my mind wasn't on the conversation. And when we got out at the harbor, I practically forgot everyone with me altogether. I was enraptured by the sights around me. Ships from every nation, with flags and banners fluttering like a festival attended by sailors of every imaginable kind. Some sang as they worked on deck while others scrambled around the rigging like spiders. The wind swept in from the sea, carrying the aroma of tar, salt, and most of all adventure.

I was yanked from my bliss by the squire's paw tapping me on the shoulder. "Now, Balto," he told me as he pointed to a nearby street, "Run down that street until you get to the Spy-Glass tavern. Duck inside and tell Mr. Silver that all is ready."

"Yes, sir!"

The Spy Glass tavern was easy enough to find; a weathered signpost displayed a beautifully polished telescope right out front. Going inside, I found the place was packed. A parrot screeched at me from a T-shaped post by the door as I entered, its orange beak a sharp contrast to its bright green feathers. But my attention was quickly taken from him by the customers. Dogs of every breed were there, along with all the other typical tavern-goers: wolverines, one or two foxes, and even a grizzly bear seated at a table in the corner. But to my surprise there were also badgers, geese, ravens, and other types of people who normally didn't come to such places. I surmised that this place must be well-kept if it managed to draw such dignified guests.

As I always did whenever I went to a place that served food, I lifted my nose and took a whiff of the air. Salt, tar, and various beverages mingled with the tantalizing aromas of steak, pork, fish, and a hint of grain for the birds. There was even a whiff of fresh fruit.

Scanning the crowd, I caught sight of a tall black and white dog coming out of the kitchen. He had a surprisingly muscular build and chiseled features for a cook, but the apron he wore and the scent of food coming off of him told me this must be Mr. Silver. I ran up to him. "Mr. Silver, sir?" I asked.

He turned to me with a somewhat foreboding air. "Yes?" he asked.

Seeing him head-on, I made a startling discovery. This dog had only one leg!

* * *

**Uh-oh. A one-legged sailor? Is this the dog Billy Bones was warning him about?**

**Uh, check please!**


	10. Black Is Back

**When we left Balto, he had just made a rather disturbing discovery. Let's see how he's getting along with this mysterious amputee...**

* * *

Seeing him head-on, I made a startling discovery. This dog had only one leg! He leaned on a crutch, and his left leg ended at the hip. _One leg!_ I remembered, Billy Bones' words echoing through my mind like a ghostly moan. _Beware a sailor with one leg._

"Y-y-your leg!" I stammered, unable to control my tongue. "Your leg's gone!"

His eyes flashed. "What?!" he roared, whirling around with the fury of a hailstorm. "Alright, who took my leg?! Nobody leaves this tavern until-" he stopped and looked at me with a darkly amused expression. "Say, come to think of it, pup, that leg was taken off by a cannonball out at sea 'bout twenty years ago. Bit late to be looking for it now, don't you think?"

The crowd in the Spy Glass roared with laughter. I looked at the floor. "Sorry," I apologized.

"No need to be sorry," he replied. "I lost that leg in the king's service."

"God bless King George!" chorused the diners.

I couldn't help smiling as I looked at them, but then I noticed a sight that made my blood run cold. In the corner sat a black dog missing two fingers.

"It's Black Dog!" I cried, pointing. "He was with the pirates!"

Silver's face twisted into an expression of rage. "What, in my house?!" he roared.

Black Dog bolted for the door. Silver pointed to a fox close by it. "You, Tom! After him fast. I can't keep up on this timber!"

The fox named Tom ran after Black Dog, and Silver sat down.

"So," he asked gruffly, "Did you come here to talk about my leg, or do you have something important?"

Still a bit uneasy, I swallowed my fear and told him, "The _Aurora _is ready to sail, sir. Squire Trelawney requests your presence on board at once."

Mr. Silver laughed and clapped me on the shoulder, his mood seeming to brighten instantly. "Well, then, let's not waste his time, eh?" And with that one hand he spun me around and we marched out the door, him stopping by the parrot's perch on the way. The parrot immediately climbed onto his outstretched hand, which he raised to guide the bird to his shoulder. It flapped off in alarm, though, as Tom came barreling back to meet us at the door.

"Sorry, sir," he panted. "I lost him in a crowd. He got away."

"Blast," muttered Silver. "And now he's robbed me to boot. Drank three measures of rum he never paid for. Ah, no matter. The wicked always gets caught in the end, and ye may lay to that. Tom, head on in and have a drink on the house."

"Wait," I asked as the fox went inside. "What about your tavern?"

"Oh, I already have someone to take care of things. Now where- ah, there he is. Me ol' shipmate, Captain Flint."

"C-Captain Flint?" I asked.

* * *

**What? Captain Flint's in the Tavern? I thought he was dead! Uh, check please!**


	11. The Aurora

**What's Captain Flint doing at the Spy Glass?**

* * *

"C-Captain Flint?" I asked.

"Aye," he grinned, pointing to the bird as it came down again on his finger. Returning Flint to his shoulder, he clapped me on the back. "So, you must be the cabin boy, huh?"

I nodded.

"Well, that's fine. I started off as one myself when I was a pup."

I began to smile a little. In the tavern Silver had seemed a little grim, but out in the sun and the fresh air he was much more friendly. I felt like we'd been best friends all our lives – or all my life, rather, since he looked to be about thirty years old.

We strolled down to the docks, where a small boat was tied up with a tan-yellow dog at the oars while Mother stood on the pier. She walked up and placed a paw on my shoulder.

"I still can't believe I'm letting you do this," she told me.

"Mother," I protested, sensing that she was about to go into a mushy goodbye, "I'm thirteen. I'll be fine."

"I know," she replied, "But it's not easy for me to let you do this."

"Mother, I'll be fine. Don't worry."

She pulled me into a hug. "Just promise me that for once you won't be like your father. Don't disappear on me."

"I won't," I promised, hugging her back. As I stood there, I tried not to think about the good chance that I might not be able to keep that promise. I had heard enough stories and seen enough injured sailors to know the sea was a dangerous place, and the reality that this might be the last time I ever saw her was there like an unwanted guest. But after a moment, I broke the hug and climbed down into the boat. "Goodbye, Mother."

She nodded her goodbye, probably not speaking lest her voice should crack.

Mr. Silver climbed into the boat with surprising ease for a cripple and sat down facing the dog at the oars. I untied the rope and, moving carefully so I wouldn't tip the boat, sat beside the cook.

As we maneuvered around the ships in port, Mr. Silver turned to me. "So, your mother's a wolf?" he asked.

I nodded. "And a good one, too."

If I hadn't been so preoccupied I might have noticed his slight scowl. "What about your father?"

"Husky," I replied. "He disappeared a long time ago."

"Probably found…" the yellow dog started to say, but a look from Mr. Silver stopped him.

After a moment, the husky patted me on the shoulder. "I never really knew my pa either," he admitted. "Haven't known many wolves, for that matter."

"We get a lot of bad press," I muttered.

Silver's face softened. "Ah, don't let it get to you, lad. You're smart as paint, I can see that well enough. Now, here's something to take your mind off your worries." He lifted a paw and pointed out into the harbor, to a ship perched on the edge of the mass. "There she is, the _Aurora_ herself!"

I stared in awe. A sleek two-masted schooner, sails billowing in the wind. Figures bustled around the deck or scurried through the rigging. She looked like a bird ready to take off!

As soon as we had climbed aboard, we were met by a black-and-white dog. Unlike Steele, this one was just a bit smaller and had much more black than white. I surmised from the trim uniform he wore that this was the captain.

"Well," he noted, "You're the last ones aboard. Balto Hawkins and Mr. Silver, and the one behind you is Kaltag, correct?"

"That's right, Captain Orde," I nodded. I was a bit surprised that the captain had called Silver by his nickname, but decided not to ask why.

The husky shook his head. "I'm not the captain, only the first mate. Mr. Silver, report to the galley and see that all is ready for departure. Kaltag, haul up that boat and see it's secure, then make yourself useful up on deck. Balto, you're coming with me."

As I parted ways with Mr. Silver, I fell into step behind the first mate. Well, maybe "step" isn't the right word. "Stumble," is a lot more like it. The waves moving the boat were small ones, but the deck pitched and shifted in a way that would definitely take some getting used to. "I, uh, don't think I caught your name," I told him as he walked along the deck with total ease.

"That's because I didn't throw it," he retorted. "My name is Togo. You will address me as sir or Mr. Togo at all times on this voyage, understood?"

I nodded even though I was behind him. "Yes sir."

I was so focused on keeping my footing that I never saw the furry form until I walked right into it. I fell backward with a thump as a huge wolverine stumbled one step, regained his footing, and turned to glare at me with an expression I hadn't seen since my last nightmare. "Watch where you're going, runt," he growled deep in his throat.

I gulped. One thing you learn early on if you live long enough around shipyards: never upset a wolverine. They combine a skunk's bad odor with a grizzly's aggression, they're _never_ in a good mood, and they're not at all skittish about ripping off creatures' limbs, or heads, if they don't get their way.

* * *

**Uh-oh. I think I liked it better when he was worried about Flint. Let's hope Balto has a chance to eep that promise to his mother. Me, I'm just going to back away right now...**


	12. Worse than a Wolverine

**Well, I was waiting for someone to comment. Thanks, Crocluva! And now, the continuation of Balto's encounter with the wolverine.**

* * *

"Mr. Scroup!" bellowed a call from two directions at once. One was from Mr. Togo. The other came from behind me. To my surprise, it was Long John Silver!

"I will tolerate no quarreling on board this ship!" barked Togo. "And if the captain hears of any such thing, you'll be sent to the brig and put ashore at the first port we pass."

Scroup scowled at Mr. Togo, then turned to glance at Silver out of the corner of one eye. "No harm done," he rumbled, and stomped away muttering to himself.

Togo looked to Silver. "What happened to the galley?" he asked.

"Everything's fine," the malamute assured him, "So I thought I'd come up to see the castoff."

Togo nodded agreeably. "Very well," he replied. "Carry on."

Just then there was a shout from somewhere past my one-legged friend, and we looked to see a large weasel hanging by one leg, which had somehow become caught in a rope from the rigging.

"Oh, blast…" muttered Togo, but Silver stopped him.

"Nothing important, sir. I'll see to it. You and the pup see to your business."

Togo nodded firmly. "Thank you, Silver."

As Steele went to see to the release the tangled sailor, Mr. Togo led me to a small group on the foredeck. The squire and Doctor Boris, complete with Muk and Luk, stood with a dog who had mostly dark tan fur and some white under his chin. The dog wore a three-cornered hat and a crisp blue coat that smelled so strongly of starch, I imagine it could have stood at attention with no one in it. He looked down at me with an expression like he was measuring me. "Balto Hawkins, I believe," he said with a crisp British accent.

I nodded. "And you must be Captain Orde?"

"Correct on the first try." He stuck out a paw, which I hesitantly took. After a quick, firm shake, he turned to the first mate. "All ready to cast off, Mr. Togo?" he asked.

Mr. Togo glanced back across the ship to where Silver and two other crewmen had just released the weasel and were signaling to us. "Everything's ready, sir," he replied.

Captain Orde drew himself up and bellowed out to all crewmen in earshot, "Anchors away!"

The shout was passed on, and in seconds the sailors were bustling about hauling up the anchor, making fresh adjustments to the sails, and doing about a dozen other things I couldn't begin to understand. Within a minute of Orde's shout, the _Aurora_ was moving clear of the harbor, bound for adventure.

I looked out to the front and laughed as I took it all in: the waves breaking against our bow, the dolphins skipping across the water, the sunlight sparkling on the surface of the deep. The air seemed alive with the smell of places to be seen, possibilities to discover, adventures to be had. And most of all, treasure to be found!

I was broken out of my trance by a paw on my shoulder. "Lad, I want a word with you and the others in my cabin for a few minutes, and then you'll be assigned to your duties."

I followed Captain Orde and the rest of the group through a door and into the captain's quarters. The furnishings were extraordinary! A globe sat on a table, cabinets lined one wall, and the bed was as good as any we'd had at the Admiral Benbow. Even the boards were engraved with designs of various things at sea.

Orde didn't seem to be terribly interested in surroundings at the moment. "Mr. Trelawney, Doctor Livesey, we have a problem at hand."

"What sort of problem?" inquired the squire.

"To begin with, there's the crew. Quite frankly I don't like them, or trust them."

"And vhy not?" asked Doctor Boris.

"They're too coordinated," he answered. This surprised me. Wouldn't he _want_ an efficient crew?

"They were hired supposedly from all corners of the country, if not the earth, but a rank amateur can see they've sailed together before. Except for this lad here and the other one who came aboard at the port, they're nearly all already on a nickname basis."

"Several members recommended friends to join the crew," countered the squire, clearly displeased with being reprimanded. "Is that your complaint?"

"Only the first." Captain Orde cleared his throat. "You hired me under sealed orders to sail wherever you asked without question. I still don't know where this ship is heading. But all the rest of the crew seems to know perfectly well. I don't consider that very reasonable, do you?"

Muk and Luk stared at each other, then looked at me. I looked at the doctor and the squire. They looked at each other. "No," admitted the squire.

"Vhere do they say ve are headed?" asked Boris.

"For treasure," answered the captain.

* * *

**Uh-oh, wasn't that supposed to be a secret? Methinks this is not going to go well.**

**Oh, almost forgot. Captain Orde belongs to Kelev, Togo belongs to no one, and all sailors except those from the Balto films belong to me.**

**And yes, Scroup is named after the creepy spider guy in Treasure Planet. Israel Hands just didin't seem as good a name for a wolverine.**


	13. An Unsteady Beginning

**Great. The sailors know what's going on, and the heroes of the story only just found out! What could be next?**

* * *

The effect was instantaneous. "How could they know that?" cried Muk, voicing all our thoughts.

I looked at the squire, and I wasn't alone. The Saint Bernard backed away. "I… I might have said a word or two…" he admitted.

"Perfect," I muttered.

"Alright," scowled Doctor Boris. "Captain, this is true. Ve are searching for treasure, the treasure of Captain Flint."

Togo put a hand over his face. "This is not a blessed thing."

"Indeed." Orde's expression was grim. "But now the damage is done, so we'd best take steps to minimize the risk."

"What do you suggest?" asked Squire Trelawney.

"Well, to begin with, I assume you have a map."

I nodded and took the oilcloth package out of my boot, where I had tucked it for safekeeping. "Here."

"Very well," said the captain, taking it from my paw. He tapped it in one paw like a constable with a club. "We shall keep it safely locked away here in my cabin. I'll lock it away _after_ you've left so no one risks dropping any clues." Here he gave a serious look at the squire, who shifted uncomfortably.

"We'd better do something about the weapons too," added Togo.

"Quite correct," agreed Orde. He strode to a door by the cabinets and rapped on it. "I've inspected the ship, and there's a private hold, probably a hiding place in case of pirate attacks, which can only be accessed from here. If you'll have my advice on this, remove the weapons and munitions from the main hold and put them in there where we can control them. Perhaps we can't stop them from starting a mutiny, but we can be prepared to stop them with less trouble if they do."

"You expect them to rebel?" asked the squire.

"No, but I want to prepare for it. If I _expected_ them to mutiny, I would resign my commission and ask that you find another captain," Orde replied.

We exchanged a look. "We'd better do as you say, I suppose," said the squire.

Togo nodded. "We'd better have those we can trust to do it," he advised. "Might I suggest we keep the task to ourselves?"

Captain Orde nodded his approval. "Excellent suggestion." He sized up each of us in turn. "You two, I suppose, haven't done a great deal of heavy labor in your lives," he noted, pointing to the squire and the doctor. "But I expect between the two of you, you ought to be able to do your bit. Balto, have you much experience?"

"I've carried trunks and bags before at my mother's inn," I replied.

"Good. You should be quite helpful. And that other lad who signed on at the docks…"

"James," supplied Mr. Togo.

"Yes, James. It's deucedly hard to tell how strong he is what with those baggy clothes he wears, but we ought to be able to trust him at the very least. And six of us ought to be able to move the guns and ammunition from the hold in about half an hour."

Orde's plan took a little longer than he predicted. The crates of guns and swords were heavy, and as he had anticipated neither the squire nor the doctor were very helpful. He and Mr. Togo, however, put in more than their share of the work, laboring as if they were part of the crew.

As for me, I found it difficult to maneuver the heavy load. I was helped by James, although he apparently wasn't that strong either. He was one of the oddest dogs I'd ever met. To start off with, the captain had been putting it mildly when he said his clothes were baggy. They would have probably been big on a grown dog, much less on someone who was slightly smaller than even me. And he always wore a red cloth tied around his head and covering his ears, along with a patch over his right eye. His good eye was surrounded by black fur as if to match the one covered up. As for his odor, I didn't know what to make of that. It vaguely reminded me of the time Mother had come out of the kitchen after supervising some chimney sweeps – a strange mix dog fur and soot. There was something just slightly off about the dog fur, but I couldn't figure out what it was. It was almost as if he had two completely different scents.

I tried to make conversation with him as we struggled to haul some small kegs of gunpowder up the stairs. "So," I grunted, "Ever done this kind of thing before?" I was working hard to keep my balance with two of the barrels, each about the size of two buckets, under my arms.

He shook his head, wobbling as he carried one against his chest with both arms. "No," he admitted, almost toppling as the ship lurched. "Have you?"

"I have," I told him just as the ship shifted again and knocked me flat on my face. "Just not on a ship," I added ruefully as I struggled to my feet. "But there's always a first time."

* * *

**Great. First pirates on shore, then cantankerous sailors who know too much, and now seasickness. Excuse me while I go look for a life boat. I want outta here.**


	14. In Which a Surprising Discovery Is Made

**Let's see how Balto is adjusting to life on the ship. And maybe we can find out a little more about this James guy. Like Balto said, something doesn;t smell right about him.**

* * *

The good news was, moving the weapons proved to be little trouble. The bad news was, everything else was a _lot_ of trouble. I used to think work at the inn was tough, but it was nothing compared to being a cabin boy. When I was below decks, I worked in the kitchen scouring pots and pans or serving food to rowdy sailors. Up on deck, Orde had me scrub the deck until it was "clean enough to eat off of," or work with the sailors when the sails had to be adjusted. This was not what I had in mind when I dreamed of adventure on the high seas.

But, it wasn't all bad. Orde was firm, but not unfair. While some of the other sailors seemed derisive of me for my age and breeding, he didn't look down on me for either. I noticed he didn't work me (or James, I see now) as hard as the others on board, although I was kept busy enough to feel soreness in my muscles at the end of each day, and an increasing hardness in them at the beginning. Being a sailor was turning me into a dog stronger than most my age. In the kitchen, Silver was as hard a boss as Orde. But he kept a huge barrel, so big I could have happily used it for a kennel, full of apples, and he let everyone eat from it as often as they wanted.

Then one day, while I was scrubbing the deck, something happened that would change the whole voyage, and my whole life. I was on my hands and knees with a coarse brush, trying to make the deck "clean enough to eat off of," when I became aware of the captain's boots right in front of me.

"Balto," he greeted.

I stood up and pushed my hands against my back. "Yes, Captain?"

He eyed the deck I'd been scrubbing. "You've done enough here. Why don't you go relieve James of his watch? He's been on double-shifts since Nikki got scurvy."

I nodded. "Yes, sir." I ran to put the mop and bucket away, then hurried to the rigging. I had always wanted to climb up into the crow's nest. Lookout seemed like the best job on the ship. Well, maybe next to being captain. I could see James watching the sea through a telescope, his expansive shirt billowing in the wind like an extra sail on the mast. He was looking out to sea in my direction, but it seemed I was literally beneath his notice.

Grinning to myself, I decided to have a little fun with this mystery sailor. I jumped from the rigging to the crossbar of the mast and crawled along it until I reached some rigging on the other side. I grabbed onto that and resumed climbing, coming up to the nest behind James. He was still staring off into the distance, oblivious to my arrival. Reaching out a paw, I grabbed his bandanna and yanked it free from his head. "Avast!" I yelled in my best pirate voice. "We're taking the ship!"

My pirate voice was pretty bad, I have to admit, but James gasped and spun around as if Flint himself were attacking. I probably looked just as shocked when I saw what was under that cloth.

* * *

**What is it? What's under the cloth?! Well, I'm not telling yet. Nyah.**


	15. Hiding In Plain Sight

**Now, where were we? Oh yeah, Balto just made some shocking discovery, James has been hiding something under a cloth, and you were about to kill me for playing with your head. Uh, let's get back to Balto and 'James.'**

* * *

James' forehead and eye were perfectly normal. But the thing that took my breath away was the fact that the face staring at me wasn't the face of a boy younger than me, but a girl about my own age!

"You're a girl?" I asked in surprise.

Quick as lightning, "James" grabbed the cloth and tried to jerk it away from me, but only succeeded in pulling me headfirst into the crow's nest. "Give me that!" she cried in a panic. She snatched the bandanna from my fingers, pulled a knife from her belt, and held it uncertainly with the tip extended toward me, seemingly ready to gut me like a sea bass. "Why did you do that?" she demanded.

Eyeing the knife, I tried to edge away. Unfortunately, the crow's nest offered very little space for that. "I-I came up here so you could take a break," I stammered. "Captain's orders."

"He told you to come up here?" she asked. Her voice sounded cold and ruthless, but I realized later that at that moment, she was as scared as I was. Which I gotta say was pretty darn scared. "And was he the one who told you to do this, too?" she demanded, holding up the bandanna. Her voice was a sort of alto, high pitched but not so much that she hadn't been able to make it sound masculine.

"No," I insisted. "I just did that as a joke, honest. I never thought that you were… well…"

She nodded. "Okay, I believe you. But you can't tell anyone about this."

I gulped. "I won't tell, I swear," I said. "Could you uh… put the knife away now?"

With a surprising air of relief, she stuck the knife in her belt. Then she sat down and began to cover her head with the cloth.

"So why did you sneak on board?" I asked.

She stopped in the middle of wrapping her head, looked at me contemplatively, then let out a breath. "I suppose I might as well tell you. I ran away from home because my father wanted me to marry someone I didn't like."

"Marry?" I echoed. She looked at least one, maybe two years too young to marry anyone. "But you can't be any older than I am."

"I tried pointing that out," she answered. "It's something rich families do."

"Figures," I snorted. "Rich people never make sense."

She seemed offended. "Well, Mother tried to take my side, but Father said it was his decision."

I nodded. "Tough dad," I commented, wondering if my father had been like that. I suddenly gained a new appreciation for the fact that I'd been born a boy instead of a girl. "So you ran away and got hired on this ship to get away from it, huh?"

She nodded. "The dog he wanted me to marry was a real nightmare. My father said 'he has a lot of money and a good pedigree,' but just talking to him made me sick."

"Is he that bad?" I asked.

She shivered. "Worse. He's a monster whenever Father isn't around. Our housekeeper used to say she thought he was Satan in disguise, and his friends were 'a bunch of arch-demons.'" She glanced at the sun and added, "You'd better take the watch or the captain will send someone up here to check on us."

I nodded, picked up the spyglass, and stood up. She stayed sitting down. "Shouldn't you be going?" I asked.

She looked over the edge, glanced in the direction of the foredeck, then ducked down again. "Maybe later," she muttered with a shiver.

I looked in the direction she'd been looking, but didn't see anyone on that part of the ship except Silver talking to the captain. "How'd you get this job anyway if the captain thinks you only have one good eye?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I just told him I didn't have many skills, but I really needed the work and was willing to do it for half-wage in exchange for training." With another tremor she added, "Now I wish I'd stayed home or picked a different ship."

I was embarrassed. "I didn't mean to… well I didn't know, or…"

She shook her head. "No, it's not you. The dog my father wanted me to marry is on this ship."

I almost dropped the telescope. "You're joking!"

"Don't I wish. You work for him, sort of."

"I work for him?" I asked. Then it hit me. "He wanted you to marry Silver?!" I gasped in shock. Silver, who had to be over twice her age? "But that dog is old enough to _be_ your dad!"

"Why do you think I didn't want to marry him?" she asked. "Besides, I could tell right away he was no good."

"No good?" I asked, feeling the need to defend my friend. "I'll admit he's old for you, but he seems like a nice guy."

"You'll never have to worry about marrying him," she retorted.

I had to admit she had me there. "Was he really that bad, though?"

She nodded. "He's nothing but a faker. His real name isn't even Silver, it's Steele."

I nodded. "Yeah, the squire said something about that."

She looked up at me anxiously. "You can't tell him who I am, please," she begged.

Despite the risk of being caught off-duty, I bent down to look her in the eye. "Don't worry," I whispered. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

She smiled. "Thanks." Then she looked down and I felt her paw sliding out from under mine. I hadn't even known it was there!

Clearing my throat and trying not to meet her gaze, I glanced over the edge and surveyed the deck. "Looks like he's gone," I told her. "You'd probably better go now."

She nodded. "Thanks," she whispered as she climbed over the edge of the crow's nest and onto the rigging.

I nodded and then realized something. "Hey!" I called.

She stopped her descent. "Yes?" she asked in her usual male falsetto.

"I don't think I caught your name."

She glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then mouthed, "Jenna."

I nodded. "OK. See you later."

She nodded back and slowly climbed down the ropes.

"Jenna," I said slowly to settle her name in my mind. I knew it was dangerous, lest I let it slip and give away her secret. But I figured if I knew, I might as well keep it in my mind.

* * *

**Strange as it may seem, early marriages in that day and age were quite common, especially with the short life spans they tended to have thanks to primitive medicine. And unfortunately for young ladies like Jenna, the girl often had no choice of her husband. Those who objected would often run away and join a convent, or simply try to disappear like Jenna did.**

**Oddly enough, they had very few divorces.**

**So, now we have a girl on board the ship on top of everything else (literally). She's supposed to marry Steele, but she doesn't want to marry anyone. And Balto's the only one who knows. As if he didn't have enough to worry about.**


	16. In Which the Plot Thickens

**So, Balto is now party to Jenna's efforts to get out of marrying Steele. Let's see how long he can keep out of trouble with that.**

**5...4...3...**

* * *

That night I dreamed I was the best man at a wedding. Jenna was the bride, and Silver… no, Steele was the groom. I stood there as the ceremony began. Then the priest asked, "If anyone has a reason why this girl should not be married to this man, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

Jenna's mouth seemed to be glued shut, but her face spoke volumes. "I do," I said.

All eyes turned to me. "And what is your reason?" asked the priest.

I tried to answer. "He's too old for her, and she's too young for anybody," I wanted to say. "She doesn't want to marry him. It's only her father who wants her to." I tried to give a reason, any of the reasons on my mind, but no sound came out when I moved my lips. I was so unnerved I started to shake like someone having a seizure.

"Balto?" asked the priest. "Balto, what is your reason? Balto? _Balto…_"

"Balto!" yelled a voice, startling me awake. With a yell of surprise, I flipped and fell out of my bunk. "AAAH!"

The "priest" from my dream was Togo. "You're late, Balto!" he yelled. "Hurry up, I've been shaking you for ten minutes."

"Sorry," I apologized, staggering to my feet and grabbing for my boots. "I guess I overslept."

He nodded. "Dreaming about someone back home?" he inquired.

Still blinking sleep from my eyes, I drawled, "Wha…?"

He smirked just a little. "You were saying some girl's name or other."

I wanted to slap myself. Bonehead! I could have blown Jenna's secret wide open in my sleep! "Er, uh, yeah, just someone I… know," I stammered. "But, uh, would you mind not mentioning it?"

He smiled. "Young lad, I won't breathe a word."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "_Thank you,_ sir."

I tried not to act like anything was amiss around Mr. Silver as I went about my duties in the kitchen, but I guess I didn't do such a good job because he finally asked, "What?"

"Huh?" I asked.

"You were looking at me kind of funny," he answered, studying me closely. "Like I had something on my face."

I shook my head. "No, there's nothing on your face."

He seemed puzzled for a minute, then laughed. "You've been talking to the crew, haven't you?" he asked.

I shrugged, trying to look innocent and praying like crazy that he wasn't as good as my mother at seeing through an act. "One or two of 'em, I guess," I admitted. "Mostly the only ones I talk to are the squire and the doctor."

Silver chuckled. "Well, don't take anything the others say too seriously. They're good sailors, but a rough bunch. And they tend to say strange things now and then, but there's a saying that us sailors will believe anything."

"Do you?" I asked.

"Not really," he shrugged. "I've got to see something myself to believe it, most of the time. But you just be wary of them, especially that wolverine."

I nodded. "Mr. Scroup," I replied with a gulp. "Don't worry, I don't plan on getting buddy-buddy with him anytime soon."

Silver grinned and clapped me on the back. "Smart pup," he approved. "Just keep a good head on your shoulders, and let me know if you hear anything interesting. Fair?"

I nodded, wondering what he meant by 'anything interesting.' If I had known then what I would know later, though, the part about my head would have been a lot higher on my worry list.

Especially after what happened next.

* * *

**Uh-oh, that doesn't sound good. Why do I get the feeling Scroup is up to something... well, unscroupulous? (no pun intended)**

**And how long can Balto keep Jenna's secret a secret? I hope they both know how to swim, because it looks like this cruise is about to hit a little rough weather.**


	17. Death on the Aurora

**There's trouble brewing for our treasure hunters. The only question is, which is worse? The ship below, or the clouds overhead?**

* * *

For two days we sailed under gray, cloudy skies. The winds became rough and unpredictable. We were going somewhat faster, but I could tell from what the other sailors said that it was getting hard to tell where we were.

Then the storm hit. It was worse than any nightmare I'd ever had, even the ones inspired by Billy Bones' stories. The wind howled, and became so fierce that Captain Orde ordered us to take down all the sails. Silver had to put out the fire in the kitchen, and the crew was forced to eat dried rations and hard tack, biscuits so hard that they would have been more use as weapons than food. Work on deck was canceled entirely, except for a few crew members periodically sent up with lifelines tied to their waists so they wouldn't be washed overboard. Their reports came back grim: waves as high as mountains, lightning slashing down like falling knives, and wind so fierce that ropes stood out from the masts as straight as ramrods. One time Scroup and Togo went up. As we waited below, both lifelines suddenly went taut. Then one went limp, and about a minute later the other one followed suit. Scroup came rushing down, soaked and gasping.

"What happened?" asked the captain. Then, looking even more worried than he already did, he added, "Where is Togo?"

Scroup coughed. "A wave... knocked us off the deck. We was dangling over the side, an' 'is lifeline broke. I tried to grab 'im, but..." he hung his head. "Sorry Cap'n," he muttered. "'E's long gone."

Orde paused, then took off his hat and hung his head, laying the hat against his chest. All of us who wore hats or headcloths followed suit except for Jenna, who kept hers on. After a moment, the captain spoke.

"Togo was a fine sailor. Better than any of us could hope to be. He knew the risks, and he did his duty regardless." He lifted his eyes. "We'll have no more checks up on deck. We must wait the storm out."

* * *

**Sorry it was so short, but hopefully the excitement makes up for it. So will the storm subside? Will they make it safely to Treasure Island, or end up as guests of Davy Jones?**


	18. In Which the Plot Thickens Thicker

**The first mate is dead, and the crew is trapped below deck. And the news just keep sgetting better...**

* * *

The hoped-for end came at night about a week after Togo disappeared. I realized it the following morning when I woke up and noticed my bunk wasn't swaying as much as it usually did. Instead of pitching violently back and forth, it rocked gently like a baby's cradle, up and down. I wearily climbed out of bed, changed clothes, and headed up to the deck. The sky was blue. I'd never known it could look so beautiful! There were scarcely any clouds, and the sun shone bright and clear. Around me, other sailors were coming up from below, first blinking in the light and then laughing and throwing their arms up in the air as if to embrace the sun and clear sky. I noticed Orde exiting the hatch, a wide grin painted on his face. "Gents," he announced, "We've got our sailing weather back again!"

A cheer arose from the sailors as the captain set about issuing orders to repair the damaged sails and ropes, and I felt a stout paw strike me on the back. It wasn't a heavy blow, but the surprise made me stumble. I turned and saw Steele grinning down at me. "We'll make it where we're goin' yet, pup!" he exulted.

I smiled. Maybe Jenna had her doubts about him, but in my book, right at that moment, he was alright.

If only I had known his real plans.

That night I awoke feeling hungry. Wearily, I slipped from my bunk and tiptoed out of the sleeping quarters to the kitchen. No one was there. I made my way by the light that shone down from the open hatch to the apple barrel, which by now was nearly empty. The fruit was so far down I had to climb onto a box beside it and then inside the barrel to get one. I was just about to take a bite when I heard footsteps coming down into the kitchen. It sounded like a whole crowd was coming down, and last of all came the familiar _thump, clunk, thump, clunk_ of Steele on his crutch. What were they doing? Then I heard Steele speak.

"Alright," he growled after clearing his throat. "By what we've been able to pick up, we should be at our destination in a day or two, a week at most."

There was a general murmur of approval at this. "And then wes get ouwa paws on Flint's gold?" asked Nikki.

There was a grin in Steele's voice. "Exactly.

"I say," grumbled Scroup's voice not three feet from the barrel, "We 'urry up an sends the rest to join that lout Togo."

Steele turned toward him, glowering. "Scroup, that trick with the first mate was not in the plan."

_Trick?_ I wondered. What trick was he talking about?

Scroup growled in response. "He 'ad it coming to 'im. Sides, we'll be doin' it to all of 'em."

That's when it hit me. Togo hadn't been lost as everyone supposed. Scroup killed him!

"Only when _I_ say," Steele shot back. "You move ahead of the plan again, and I'll send _you_ to join him."

"Throwing him overboard was the riskiest, the most careless, the stupidest…" Kaltag started to ramble.

"It wasn't smart!" interjected Star, followed by a _thunk._

"What about that pup?" growled the wolverine.

I could imagine Steele turning his cold gaze on him. "What about him?" he asked.

There was murder in the wolverine's voice as he rumbled, "Something tells me you 'ave a soft spot for 'im."

I heard a punch, followed by the jolt a heavy body crashing into the barrel. I bounced and had to stifle a yelp when I came back down right on my tail.

"Belay that!" snapped Steele. "I'm not about to go soft on some wolf-pup. They're nothing but scum, all of 'em. Wolves are trash, and wolf-_dogs_ are gutter trash! I play nice with the whelp to keep him out of our business and _hopefully_ get him to tell us where the map is on this miserable ship." There was a long pause, during which I imagine he glared around the room. "Anyone else want to say I've gone soft?" Nobody answered. "Good," spat Steele. "Now remember, nobody, and I mean _nobody_, makes a move until I say so. We can use these lubbers to run the ship and make things a little easier loading it up with Flint's loot. Then once the treasure's loaded, ideally when we've gotten about halfway home, we strike. The squire, captain, sawbones, and _especially_ the wolf-dog. I don't want any of them showing up like the devil at prayers when we're done."

"What about the others?" asked Nikki.

"Yeah," Kaltag agreed, "The polar bears. And there's still a couple dogs who are loyal, straight-up, living by the…"

"Good gu-" Star started to interrupt again before the coconut-like sound of his head being hit, followed by a falling body, ended his sentence.

Steele chuckled. "We can finish recruiting when we get to land," he replied. "And if anyone won't join us, they can join the sharks. I'll take care of that James lad myself. You can see at a glance he's got no stomach to be a gentleman of fortune."

_If he only knew,_ I thought in spite of the dread of the situation.

Just then he began to cough. "Scroup, grab me an apple from that barrel to wet my pipe."

I started to panic. If they found me in there I was sure I would meet the same fate as Togo, or worse. I could hear Scroup lumbering to his feet right beside the…

"Land ho!" came a voice from up on deck. "Laaaannndd hoooo!"

"Ah," cried Steele with vicious delight, "Forget the apple, Scroup. Let's go up and have a look!"

I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard them tramping up the steps to the deck above. It was some moments before I dared to raise my head. When I did, the kitchen was empty.

_I've got to warn the others,_ I thought.

"Pirates?!" exclaimed Orde. "On my ship? Mark my words, they'll all hang!"

"Ha!" retorted the doctor. "Ve are a mere handful and they are nearly whole crew! Ve're doomed, doomed…" he moaned, helped little by the two polar bears whimpering in the corner of the cabin.

"I'm afraid he's right," the squire concurred. "We can't hope to defeat that many."

"Oh yes we can!" snapped the captain. "We just need to plan. Now, let me think." He sat down on the bed and propped his chin on his hand for a moment. "Balto, how much did you hear?"

I thought back. "Well, they haven't won over the whole crew yet. There are one or two Steele must have picked off the street to fill in for members who were dead, or whom I might recognize. He's hoping to discreetly persuade them to join, and dispose of anyone who won't."

Orde nodded. "So, Steele is the ringleader. I might have known, he was the one who helped our good squire select the crew."

Squire Trelawney shifted uneasily. "Anything else?" he prompted me, obviously anxious to change the subject.

I thought for a moment. "He said he wanted to wait until we were headed home."

Boris looked hopeful. "Then ve have time?"

"If the crew doesn't turn on him," I replied. "They want to get rid of us now."

Orde nodded. "Division among them. That might be trouble, or it might be a chance to save our skins if we use it right."

"What should we do?" asked Muk.

"For now," answered the captain, "We'll have to keep our eyes and ears open and our mouths shut. Our only advantages are control of the weapons, which they know about, and the fact that they don't know we know about them."

"Perhaps we should arm ourselves," offered the squire.

"And anyone else still loyal," I volunteered.

"Yes, but we'd better be quiet about it. Balto, how many are still on our side?"

"James," I answered right away. "He'll side with us, that's for sure."

"You're sure of this?" asked Boris. "James, he seems a little strange to me."

"Trust me," I replied. True, I hardly knew Jenna, but she trusted me with her life and then some. I _had_ to trust her too. "James is my friend."

"You thought the same about Steele," answered the squire.

I shook my head earnestly. "Not the same," I insisted. "He wasn't with the pirates, and they definitely talked about dealing with him. Steele said he wouldn't have the stomach, and he's right about that."

"Right," agreed Orde, reaching into the weapons cache and pulling out several pistols and a handful of ammunition. Loading two and tossing them to me, he instructed, "Balto, arm yourself and James, since he seems to trust you most on this ship. Who else did they mention?"

I had to inform him regretfully that I had no idea. The captain frowned. "In that case we'd best be on guard," he decided.

Personally, I'd already figured out that much.

* * *

**Looks like Balto and the crew are in a jam. How are they going to get out of this? And what's going to happen when Balto tells Jenna she was right about Steele?**

**Made this chapter longer at the request of a friend.**


	19. A Moment and a Problem

Nimbly I climbed up to the crow's nest, rapping out a signal of knocks we had arranged.

She turned around, looking surprised and a little pleased to see me. "Balto," she asked, "What are you doing up here?"

"Captain's orders again," I replied grimly. "And this time we're not trading watches." I reached under my shirt and pulled out one of the pistols. She gasped.

"We've got trouble with the crew," I explained, making sure she knew how to load and fire as I quickly filled her in on the situation. She was a bit clumsy with the thing, and I could tell she'd never held a gun before and didn't want to start now.

"Looks pretty bad," she muttered.

I tried to reassure her. "Don't worry, we'll be OK. The Captain will figure out what to do." Impulsively I laid a paw over the one in which she held the gun. "And no matter what happens, we're in this together like crew mates. Right?"

Her voice quivered slightly as she answered, "Right."

It wasn't long before the crew became anxious to get on shore. Were it not for the tension of the situation, I would have felt the same. Captain Orde agreed to allow most of them shore leave, only keeping a few behind to mind the ship. Steele quickly took over arranging the boarding parties, and I noticed with some dismay that he left a handful of pirates behind while bringing some of the crew still undecided ashore. I had been entertaining the thought of sending all the pirates ashore and then leaving them stranded so we could come back with reinforcements. From the disappointed look on Captain Orde's face, I suspected he felt the same way.

It occurred to me that someone should keep an eye on the pirates. So when no one was looking, I slipped into one of the boats and hid under the back seat board, concealing myself with a sheet of canvas in hopes that they would get in it without noticing me. My hopes were not in vain. Soon a half-dozen sailors climbed in and the boat was lowered into the water. I raised my head to see who was there, and I heard a shout from the boat behind us. "Balto! Is that you?"

My blood ran cold. Steele had spotted me! I wasted no time. The moment the boat touched shore, I jumped up and was away like a shot into the jungle. I fought my way into the undergrowth until I could hear no more voices, then waited for my heart to stop pounding before I started to explore. I saw birds, snakes, and other animals, none very large, wandering around. I ran into a wild goat, which ran off. Then I heard voices close by. Peering through the greenery, I saw Steele talking to another sailor, a badger. I soon realized that this was one of those not with the pirates, and he would have no part of their scheme.

"Mutiny I'll have nothing to do with," he was saying. "I'm an honest beast, God knows it, and I curse the day I joined this crew."

Steele seemed to be making every effort at persuasion. "Come on, don't ye see I'm only trying to save yer hide? It's because I think gold dust of you that I'm warning you. There's no changing the course now, riding it out's the only chance."

Just then a cry of anger sounded somewhere off to my right, followed by a terrible scream. "What was that?" asked the sailor.

Steele leered. "That was your friend Joseph, another who wouldn't go along with my plan."

"Joseph!" cried the badger. "Well, God rest his soul. And as for you, Long John, I'll have no part with you or your crew. If I die, God help me I'll die doing the right thing. Kill me too if you dare, but to the devil with you!"

He lunged for Steele, who spun nimbly aside on his one leg and drew a knife in the same motion, slashing the badger a gash across his arm and drawing a bellow of pain with the blood. The two faced off again, and a moment later heard approaching footsteps. Eyes widening, the badger realized he would soon be overrun and made a break for the beach. Before he got ten yards, Steele had grabbed a branch overhead and whipped his crutch through the air and into the sailor's back. I couldn't see the impact from where I lay, but from the sound of the blow and the groan that followed I think he must have broken the poor fellow's back. Whatever the extent of the injury, Steele was on him in a flash and I could hear him grunting as he and his knife did their terrible work. Surrendering part of my breakfast, I turned and ran, knowing that if the pirates caught me I'd soon be as dead as that brave sailor. Behind me, like the ominous cry of a banshee, screeched the voice of his parrot. "Dead dogs don't bite! Dead dogs don't bite!"

I plunged headlong through bushed and ferns, around pine trees and over or under fallen logs, until I had no idea where I was. Suddenly the world turned a complete flip-flop. A pressure on my ankle, a yank and a rush, and the next thing I knew I was about twenty feet off the ground dangling from a branch. "Hey!" I yelled without thinking. Then I slapped myself in the forehead. _Wonderful_, I thought. _Now the pirates are sure to know where I am._

I considered my options. Could I cut through the rope? I reached for my knife and discovered it wasn't there. I looked down and saw it lying on the ground. Must have fallen out of my belt when the snare got me.

I considered trying to shoot through the rope, but I was still swaying too much to have a chance at a decent shot. And even if I did manage to hit it with all my blood rushing to my head, I wasn't very interested in a headfirst landing from twenty feet in the air. Especially if the bullet paid a visit to my foot on the way. _Wonderful,_ I thought. _Death by pirates, or an upside-down hanging. Just wonderful._

After what felt like three hours (although it could have been three minutes in that isolated place), I heard a rustling sound behind me. I jerked around in an effort to get a better view and saw someone coming toward me through the foliage. _Pirate_, I thought, pulling the pistol out of my pocket and cocking it. I pointed it in the direction of the figure and fired as soon as he stuck his head out. The shot missed, exploding a tree branch a few inches from his head.

"You come any closer and I'll fire again!" I shouted, trying to sound braver than I felt. Even with the confidence boost from managing to get off that good of a shot from my position, I still felt pretty shaky.

* * *

**Well, if this isn't a tight spot to be in. Who's down there anyway? Buddy, or buccaneer? And will Balto ever get back to his friends... alive?**


	20. Lost Sailor and a Lost Mind

**When we last left Balto, he was out on a limb, literally. Trapped like a rat, and with no place to go, he was really up the river without a paddle - or up the tree withut a knife, in this case. So let's not leave him hanging, shall we?**

* * *

The figure raised his hands and called out in a deep, slightly rough voice, "Mercy! Mercy! 'ave pity, please! I thought you was a goat."

"A goat?" I raised… no, lowered… ahh, you know what I mean. I shifted an eyebrow. Was this some kind of trick? "Come out slowly with your hands in the air."

The figure stepped out and I instantly realized my mistake. This wasn't one of the pirates at all. The dog that emerged from the undergrowth had wildly overgrown hair and a beard that could have filled in for his tattered clothes all by itself. He had a wild look in his eyes, and he was staring at me like he'd never seen another dog before. His fur was brownish-gray, and his nails reminded me of an eagle's claws. "'Ave pity, friend," he pleaded. "I was only tryin' t' catch a goat for supper."

_Friend?_ I thought. If I were looking for a friend, this guy wouldn't have been my first choice. But the throbbing in my head made me decide to worry about that later. "Would you mind getting me down?" I asked.

He nodded. "Sure'n I'll get you down, matey." He ran to the trunk and started to climb up.

"Wait!" I called. "How are you going to get me down without dropping me?"

He paused. Apparently he hadn't thought of that. "I'll pull you up," he decided at last.

I was amazed at the ease with which he climbed the trunk, moving with all the speed and dexterity of a monkey. In no time at all he had me up on a branch and my feet free. "Sorry again, lad," he said as if he were thrilled just to speak to someone. "I hadn't a notion you'd be stumbling into my trap."

I nodded. "No problem," I replied, trying to stay on the branch while my body reassured itself that I was right-side up. "Who are you, anyway?"

The stranger put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. "Name's Ben. Poor old Ben." He never took his eyes off me for even a second. "And you are?"

"Balto," I answered. "Balto Hawkins."

"A fine name!" he laughed heartily. "And the only one as I've heard in many a year since I was marooned here."

**

* * *

**

Marooning in this case doesn't mean they painted the guy maroon, or that they called hm a maroon. Marooning was a form of punishment used, most likely, throughout the greater part of nautical history, and it refers to abandoning a sailor on an island to fend for himself or die. Some more merciful marooners would leave the man with a few supplies, hopefully enough to get him by until he could procure his own. Although marooning was considered more merciful than death, many marooned sailors did die from hunger, thirst, or exposure. Those who did live to be found by another ship were sometimes half or totally crazed from the experience, sometimes irreversably. Case in point.

* * *

"Uh, yeah," I agreed, trying to sound jovial. This dog was obviously more than a little crazy. "How long have you been here?"

He scratched his beard, as if he couldn't remember. "Been about ten long years since I was left ashore, it has."

"Ten years?" I asked in surprise. "How did you survive?"

"I managed to live mostly offa berries an' goats, but cheese is what I'm after. Many's the night I've dreamed of cheese. Tried makin' some from goat's milk, but it went terrible sour. The sailors didn't leave none, and the pirates' cache-" he gagged a trifle. "Eh, the _merchants'_ cache…"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted, getting worried. "You were a pirate?"

He sighed. "More of a slave," he admitted. "Served Flint himself, I did. Not too proud of it, but I had folks back home to think of, y'know."

I shrugged, edging away from him as much as the branch allowed. "Didn't work out too well, did it?" I asked.

"Ooh, I wouldn' know," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm a rich man, I am."

"Uh, sure," I pretended to agree. "Richest man alive, I'll bet." _Berries,_ I thought. _I'll bet that's what did it to him._

"Ho ho, if you only knew," he laughed. "Make Solomon look like a pauper, I do. But tell me, lad, be the ship ye from a pirate ship?"

It took me a minute to untangle his sentence. "No, but there's pirates on board. Some of Flint's crew."

His face turned so pale it showed even under his fur. "Be there a sailor with one leg?"

I nodded. "Steele," I replied.

Ben shook like a leaf and grabbed me by the shoulders. "You isn't one o' them, is ye?" he begged. "If you was sent by him I'm dead and I knows it."

I shook my head. "No, never. I'm on the other side." I listed the good sailors, emphasizing Doctor Boris, the captain, and the squire.

"You're a good lad, Balto!" he laughed, clapping me on the back so hard I almost fell off the branch. "You're a friend to old Ben, shore enough, and Ben'll be a friend to ye, he will! And will your squire give me passage home to dear old England if I does?"

"Of course," I agreed, realizing that if this man was as afraid of the pirates as he seemed than he was indeed our friend. "Once we've beaten the pirates we'll need every hand we can get."

"Once!" he exclaimed, beaming. "Once, not if. I likes that mind. And might I have a fair share of the treasure, say seventeen hundred pounds sterling, not more or less?"

I nodded. If the treasure was as vast as we imagined, that would be very reasonable. "I think we can manage that," I agreed. _Seventeen hundred pounds sterling,_ I thought, puzzled. _Why that particular amount?_

He grabbed my paw and pumped it like a man dying of thirst going at a water pump. "Then I be glad to help ye!"

Just then a thundering crash shook the jungle and I jumped as if a snake had bitten my tail. I fell from the branch and would have fallen to my death if Ben hadn't seized me by the hand and pulled me back up. If I'd had the time, I would have marveled at his reflexes, which were sharper than a striking snake. "The cannon!" I cried.

"Aye, been a spell since I heard one o' them," Ben groaned uneasily. What fur he had that wasn't matted down now stood up like a porcupine. "But who's shootin', and who's they shootin' at?"

Before I could say anything, he had slid down to the end of the rope, dropped to the ground, and was beckoning to me. More than a little uneasy, I climbed to the end of the rope, said a quick prayer, and let go. He caught me as easily as a dropped pillow, grabbed me by the paw, then hauled me through the jungle with the strength of a horse and the easy manner of a wild ape. We made our way to the beach and peered through the foliage. As the cannon fired again, Ben pulled a small telescope (in surprisingly good condition) from his clothes and peered trough it. "That be Nikki!" he cried. "Flint's old gunner!"

My heart sank. "Is there anyone else?" I asked.

"Aye, another at the gun and one dog dead," he replied gravely.

"Where are they shooting?" I asked.

He squinted. "I'd say they's shooting for the old stockade the pirates built," he replied. He shimmed up a tree and aimed the telescope in another direction. "A Union Jack!" he cried with delight. "Been some time since I saw that!"

"The honest crew?" I asked. "What are they doing ashore?"

"I dursn't know," he replied. "But those pirates'll never hit the stockade from that far away. Balto, you go tell the squire Ben's an honest dog, and if ye help him he'll help ye. If'n he wants to talk, they can look for me at a clearing 'bout half a mile west o' the fort with a boulder that looks like a whale where I keep me boat. Be sure 'n bring somethin' white as a token of peace." And with that he took off through the growth.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To see what the pirates are up to!" he answered without a backward glance.

"But where…?" I asked, but he was gone. So, with no idea what else to do, I headed off through the jungle in the direction he'd been looking when he saw the stockade. As I walked I happened to spot something on the ground. Bending over to examine it, I discovered it was a ring! _Must be part of the treasure,_ I thought. It was simple, but beautiful, shaped from smooth gold with a large diamond set in it. I would have liked nothing better than to search for the rest then and there, but I had to get to the others. I stuck it in my pocket, thinking it would be nice to show them. As it turned out, however, things would soon be too wild for showing off a trinket like that.

I got lost searching for the stockade, and the moon was above the treetops by the time I came out in a clearing surrounding it. The fort stood on a little hill in the middle of a clearing which I would later learn was some hundred feet across, and the fort itself was a wall of upright logs in a circle at the top, about thirty feet across and ten feet high, sharpened at the top to deter enemies from trying to get over. Casting my eyes in every direction for pirates, I crept up and tried to climb the wall. I was just wondering how to get over the tops of the sharpened tree trunks without stabbing myself when a metal tube thrust its way through a gap and pressed against my forehead. "Who goes there?" came a voice.

I gasped. "James?"

Jenna hesitated. "Who is that?"

* * *

**Boy, first a knife and now a musket. Why do I get the feeling this girl doesn't like him much? Why are she and the rest of the crew in the fort while the pirates are running the ship? And come to think of it, why do I keep cutting off when it gets to the good part?**


	21. In Which The Plot Positively Curdles

**Well, this marks the next part I'll be posting over on Balto Source. Thanks for your continued input.**

**Now where were we? Oh yeah, Jenna was in perfect position to blast Balto. And he didn't even ask her out yet.**

* * *

"Jenna, it's me."

"Balto?" she asked, dropping her falsetto and her weapon in surprise. "Where have you been?"

"Everywhere," I replied. "Can you let me in?"

"Sure, the gate's about five yards to your left."

I ran to the gate and waited until she opened it, slipping inside and pulling it shut as soon as the gap was wide enough. "Thanks."

"Where have you been?" she demanded, taking me by the arm. "Everyone's been so worried about you!"

"I slipped into a boat and followed the pirates ashore," I admitted. "But what are you doing here?"

"Never mind," she replied. "You'd better get inside. Everyone thinks you're dead."

I nodded. "How long have you been out here?" I asked.

"Quite awhile," she replied. With a yawn, she added, "I think it's about time for the end of my watch." So she came along with me.

We crept up to a crude cabin in the middle of the stockade. It was assembled from logs stacked together, with tar filling the cracks (although I would only learn that detail by daylight). "Has there been any trouble from the pirates?" I asked.

She nodded. "When the captain realized you had gone ashore with them, he and Hunter, the one who told him you had gone, decided to go ashore and see that you were alright. When they made it to shore, they heard screams and knew the pirates were killing off those who wouldn't agree to side with them. Captain decided they must have caught and killed you too. They returned to the ship, where they and the rest of us held the pirates at gunpoint. Hunter, Gray, and Joyce agreed to help us and were ordered to stock the lifeboat with supplies, and then they locked the pirates in the foredeck and made for shore with as many weapons and other equipment as they could carry."

"They planned to fight it out with the pirates?" I asked.

She nodded. "I was so afraid, especially when, looking back, we discovered the pirates had broken out and were getting ready to fire the cannon at us. The squire managed to pick one of them off, but they still damaged our boat badly enough that it sank by the time we reached shore. All we could salvage were an armload of the guns. So, we took shelter here in the stockade." She paused to take a lantern that was hanging outside the door. Then we went in.

The place looked in good condition despite being out of use for so long. Jenna took two steps and stopped with a gasp. I looked too and saw a snake curled up next to the motionless figure of Boris.

I bent forward, causing the snake to raise its head and hiss. The hiss was accompanied by the sound of a rattle. I stepped out of striking range and glanced around before picking up a ramrod sitting next to the door.

"What are you doing?" asked Jenna, paralyzed in terror.

I took her hand and drew her back to where I stood, then waited until the snake had settled down again. Warily, I brought the rod over the snake, pausing every time it moved or hissed. Then with a lunge, I trapped its head against the ground. I grabbed it just behind the head and threw it out the door.

Jenna breathed a sigh of relief. "I didn't know you could do that," she whispered.

I wiped the sweat from my brow. "Neither did I," I admitted. I had heard about those kind of snakes from a sailor once, who told me that sometimes on islands they would curl up next to a sleeping person and then bite him when he woke up.

Boris suddenly became aware of our presence and sat up. "Who are you?" he asked.

"It's us," I replied, relieved to see he was unharmed.

I decided not to mention the snake. I wouldn't have had the chance, for Boris hollered at the top of his lungs, "Balto's back!"

_That_ woke everybody up in a hurry. Muk and Luk tumbled out of their hammocks to greet me with the usual hugging-and-licking routine polar bears always seem to do. Captain Orde and the Squire sat up in their hammocks and swung their feet to the ground. "Mr. Hawkins!" exclaimed the captain. "Where have you been? We thought the pirates got you."

"Never mind me," I was all set to exclaim before I remembered my manners. I stopped myself and answered, "I slipped ashore hidden on one of the boats to spy on the pirates, then ran away from them hoping to hide. I got caught in a snare set by a dog named Ben, who says he's been marooned on this island for years."

Squire Trelawney was all business. "Is this Ben friend or foe?" he asked.

"Friend," I answered without hesitation. "He knows Flint's crew and is scared to death of them, but he's promised to help us if we help him."

The Captain put a paw to his chin. "What sort of help does he ask of us?" he inquired.

"Transportation back to England and a share of the treasure," I answered.

"How much?" the squire wanted to know.

I searched my brain for a moment. "Seventeen hundred pounds sterling," I replied.

Squire Trelawney seemed a bit uneasy about giving that much to a stranger, but Doctor Boris cut in, "That sounds qvite fair to me."

"Done," agreed Captain Orde. "If he'll help us beat these bloody pirates and make it off this island with the treasure and our lives, he can jolly well have a share of the bounty. Did he say how to let him know we agree to his terms?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

"Perfect," Jenna put in. "So our best chance against these pirates is a dog we can't find."

"He seemed to know his way around," I replied in Ben's defense. "I guess he'll just find a way to tell us when he's ready."

Luk mumbled something, which Muk translated, "Luk wants to know what we should do until then."

"Sit tight," Squire Trelawney offered. "Pray for a miracle. That's all we can do."

The captain nodded. "Sage advice, my friend. Sage advice."

The next morning, the pirates attacked. Running out of the woods literally armed to the teeth, they swarmed the fort from the east side in an attempt to overwhelm us. At the same time, gunfire opened from the woods and a rifle shot sang through the doorway, splintering wood from the back wall. Fortunately, the captain had anticipated such a move and had all the guns ready and loaded inside.

The pirates swarmed over the wall like monkeys, nimbly avoiding the sharpened spikes or lopping the tips off with their cutlasses before advancing, and forced in the cabin door we had just shut and bolted. It was such an intense fight I can't remember much of what happened, but Muk, Luk, and the doctor scrambled for cover as the rest of us opened fire or grabbed up swords. One of the pirates appeared in the doorway only to be run through by the Squire. I snatched up a saber and began exchanging thrusts and parries with a weasel who was missing several teeth and whose breath stank of rum. He knocked my sword aside and was all set to run me through when a rifle butt slammed into his temple and brought him down. I looked in the direction of the attack and saw Jenna looking grim even through her disguise. "Thanks," I managed to say.

With the squire holding the door, the rest of us finished those who had gotten through and crouched behind him with rifles, picking off any pirates we could spot. I advised Jenna to stand guard where the doctor and the two bears were hiding, and she didn't seem at all reluctant to do so.

After a brief but intense skirmish, the pirates had retreated or been rendered immobile, either wounded or dead. We made for the fence and peered through gaps, waiting for their next move while Jenna, Boris, Muk and Luk ventured to the doorway of the cabin to watch. After a moment, Captain Orde spied something in the woods. "A white cloth," he observed, and I noticed when I looked at him that his left shoulder was a ragged mess, apparently torn apart by a gunshot. He was grimacing with pain, but managed to keep his composure. "Brutes. First they attack us and now they want to talk terms."

"Ahoy, Orde!" Steele called. "Request permission to parlay!"

"Boil you head!" snapped Orde. "Come if you want, but we're keeping our arms at the ready."

Steele hobbled up to within ten yards of the palisade while a dog behind him held up a white rag tied to the end of a musket – a mixed signal if I ever saw one. "There's not a one on my crew that doesn't want your heads," growled Steele. "Wasn't too sporting, sneaking into our camp and spiking three of us in our sleep."

Looks were exchanged. "Ben!" we all whispered, suddenly very glad the old dog was on our side.

"Not too sporting you lot attacking us before breakfast either," the captain shot back.

"Tit for tat," Steele said dismissively, as if it had been a fair exchange. "But I'm willing to make a fair trade. You give us that map, and on my word as a gentleman of fortune I'll split the supplies with you man-for-man, and tell the first ship we pass where you're at. Or if ye want, I'll take you all aboard and let you off at the first port. You can't get a better deal than that."

"The word of a pirate is less than the word of a snake!" Captain Orde shot back. "But you hear me now, Steele. You surrender, you and your rabble, and we'll put in a good word with the judge for you lot when we get back to England."

This drew a mix of derisive laughter and outraged yells from the pirate crew. "Ha!" mocked Steele. "You'll clap us in irons the day the sun sets this island ablaze! Mark my words, dog, you give up now or the next you'll hear from me is cannon fire!"

Orde raised his good hand. "Give me a moment to parlay with my crew," he called. "But we'll be watching, and if any of you comes an inch forward, he'll come back with a round in him!" And he withdrew from the fence.

"Vhat are ve going to do?" asked Doctor Boris.

"Well we can't give them the map," said the captain. "If we do, they'll just take the treasure and kill us or leave us stranded here. I hate to say it, but we're in a bit of a spot here."

Jenna's face was grim. "I know another solution," she answered. All our eyes turned to her as she slowly unwound her bandanna and revealed her entire face. "Me."

* * *

**Oh, no. Jenna isn't planning to... to give herself up, is she?**

**P.S. The character Hunter is not a reference to Road Rovers. That was in fact the guy's name in Treasure Island. The titles about the plot thickening, and this one about it curdling, were borrowed from the book Dealing With Dragons.**


	22. Jenna and Balto Take Drastic Measures

**So, Jenna's mask is finally off. And so are the gloves if she's planning what it looks like she's planning.**

* * *

"What in blazes…?" asked Squire Trelawney.

The captain was stunned. "You're a girl?" he asked.

"That's what I said," I chuckled before realizing how foolish that was.

Now everyone stared at me. "You knew this?" asked Boris.

"Never mind!" snapped Jenna. She quickly re-wound the bandanna and walked over to the wall.

"Now hold it!" I protested, grabbing her by the wrist a little more roughly than I meant to. "Jenna, if you're doing what I think you're doing, you're out of your mind."

"It's the only way," she insisted. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

"Young miss," the captain added, taking my side, "If you're thinking of offering yourself to those pirates, I'm afraid my honor as a gentleman would sooner have me order you bound to the flagpole for your own safety."

"Don't worry," she insisted. "I'd be dead before I let them touch me, but this is the only way to stall for time."

I hesitated, then let go. "I hope you're right," I said softly.

She stood on top of the log pile and shouted, "Steele, I have an offer for you!"

There was a pause before the pirate answered. "Stay down, you little pup! I'm talking to your captain, not you."

Jenna stood there defiantly. "Before you left, you were offered a girl's hand in marriage. She hated you, but you managed to get her father's favor by talking about great riches and bragging about your pedigree."

I couldn't see over the wall, but I could imagine the look on the pirate's face. "How do you know that?" he demanded.

Jenna rubbed at her uncovered eye, then whipped off her bandanna and dropped it behind her. "Recognize me now?" she asked, abandoning her fake male voice.

"Jenna?" Under any other circumstances, I might have doubled up just thinking about the look on Steele's face. "What are you doing here?!" he demanded.

"Standing by my captain and crew mates," she answered. "Now, I have a deal for you and your beasts."

"Why should I make deals with you?" he demanded. "You're already as good as mine!"

Jenna's voice hardly wavered as she reached to her belt and pulled out a knife, which she held up for him to see. "If you want me alive, you'd better listen up."

Even at that distance I could hear his growl. "What's your offer?" he asked.

"If you and your crew let us leave the fort _with the map_ and move to another place safely, I'll marry…" she hesitated. "I'll marry the first dog to put a ring on my finger."

There was a lot of commotion among the pirates before Steele snapped, "Quiet!" Then to Jenna he demanded, "Why should I make deals with you when I can have you and the map?"

Jenna responded tensely, "I'd rather kill myself than marry you. Take me by force and I'll do it, and the map will be destroyed long before you get it. Let us go peacefully, and I'll marry you as long as you're the first to put a ring on my finger. But if we lose the map, you lose me. And I know how much you hate to lose."

There was a long silence before he finally said, "It's a deal."

"I hope she knows vhat she is doing," whispered Boris.

"So do I, Doctor," I murmured. "So do I."

"Tell your captain he has until noon tomorrow to leave the stockade," Steele's voice rang out. "But if you're not out by then, I'll set it on fire and blast anyone who comes out."

A moment later Jenna came down. "He's leaving," she reported.

"Young girl, that was the bravest and most foolhardy thing I've ever seen anyone do," said Orde in a voice that sounded half a commendation, half a rebuke.

"With any luck it'llkeep them busy. If they capture me, they might start fighting each other and give us a chance to get away. Or at least you," I heard her add under her breath.

"But vere can ve go?" asked Doctor Boris nervously. "Is there anyvere safe on this island from those killers?"

Jenna hung her head. "I'm hoping Ben will show up. He's been here this long, he must know a place."

"Vell ve're betting our lives on it now!" snapped Boris irritably. Jenna's ears went down, we all gave the doctor a look, and he closed his beak.

"It may not be an excellent plan," said the captain, "But I'm afraid for the moment we have no choice."

I looked around at the group. "So now what?" I asked.

The Squire put a hand to his chin. "We still haven't heard from this Ben fellow. If we don't hear from him by tonight, we'll set out an hour before daybreak."

It was a tense day waiting for Ben to appear. Doctor Boris patched up our side and the pirates who remained alive inside the palisade. Star had taken a bullet through the leg, but once he recovered from the wound itself he'd be able to walk. A brown fox, in more serious condition, had taken a nasty hit over the head and seemed to have a cracked skull. Doctor Boris patched him up and, on Orde's instructions, Tied him by the wrists to a post inside the cabin where we could tend him without risk of any treachery. Star, as soon as he showed signs of recovery, was put outside. Before long he had staggered back to the woods. Sadly, a fox on our side had been cut down by a sword, and Hunter had been rammed in the forehead with the butt of his own rifle. Doctor Boris did the best he could, but the poor dog never woke up. Orde's shoulder, the doctor said, would heal, but he'd have to keep it still or the bones would be crooked and leave him crippled. Worse, a broken end could damage his lung.

It seemed like sunset would never come, but it finally did, and there was still no sign of Ben. "He'll probably come during the night," I said to the captain.

"I hope so," he agreed, reclining by the door. "But if he doesn't, we're going. Either way, let's get what we have ready for travel before we bed down. And as for Jenna," he added, looking me in the eye, "Set up a curtain of some sort in the corner to give the young lady some privacy for the night." Looking into the distance again, he murmured, "Just as well I had everyone sleep fully dressed last night in case of attack."

I nodded and went to make arrangements for her. The captain wasn't the only one worried. Now that her identity was known to everyone, she had abandoned her disguise. Without her head covered and her eye blackened, she was... well, beautiful. And as I set up her curtain, made from some old canvas that was lying about, I knew the pirates would think so as well, which meant that from now on Jenna would have a lot more at stake than any of the rest of us.

She came up to me as I was setting up the barrier. "Thanks," she said.

"It's no trouble," I replied. "And the captain asked me to."

"I don't mean about the curtain," she said. "I mean everything else you've been doing. Just being there on the ship, and now..." she trailed off. "It's nice to have someone I know around," she admitted, her eyes lowered. "Someone I can count on."

"You can count on all of us," I said. "But I won't let you down. We'll figure out how to stop Steele."

She looked up at me and smiled. "Thank you."

I noticed her bandanna hanging from her pocket. It struck me that the piece of cloth seemed somehow tied to her personality as much as Steele's missing leg, but as a complement to beauty, not to evil. It seemed wrong that it should be tucked in her pocket and ignored like that. "Can I see your bandanna for a minute?" I asked.

Her face puckered slightly in confusion, but she took it out and handed it to me. I took the opposite corners, raised it over her head, and brought it down, tying a knot in front of her throat so that it hung loosely around her neck. I smiled. "Much better," I said. It looked like a badge almost, like a flag displaying her courage.

She touched the knot, then looked at me. "I'd rather you wear it," she said. "I don't know why." And she slid it off and held it out to me.

I took it with some uncertainty. "Are you sure?" I asked. "I mean..."

She sighed. "We're going to be in a lot of trouble soon, I can feel it. Everyone's going to be watching my back, but you'll be on your own. This bandanna kept me safe through the voyage, so maybe now it can keep you safe."

I shook my head. "Jenna, please. I'll be fine; it's you I'm worried about. All the pirates are going to be after you now. If this thing could keep anyone safe, you'd need it most." And I held it out to her, looped over my open palm.

She looked at it and closed my fingers over it gently. "Please, Balto," she said. "You were there for me on the ship. Let me return the favor."

I shook my head, wondering if I would ever understand the female mind. But, if it would make her happy... "Alright," I said, sliding it over my head. "I'll wear it... for you."

I thought about Jenna all night. I had never given much thought to girls, although I appreciated a pretty face. But Jenna was like no one I'd ever met before. She had more courage, I decided, than all the rest of us put together.

As I was thinking of her, lying peacefully behind the canvas, I resolved that I myself would go out and find Ben. I didn't trust those pirates not to ambush us the next day when we left the fort, but with a mind like Ben's we might have a chance.

I started to head out, then stopped and looked back at my friends. But mostly, I looked at the curtain. "Jenna," I whispered. Part of me wanted to stay behind and protect her. She had trusted me, even given me a piece of herself in case something happened; I'd feel as vile as the pirates themselves if I just walked out on her. True, if the pirates attacked, I wouldn't be able to do much, only buy her some time...

And then it dawned on me. I could buy her some time, but I had to do it quickly. Tiptoeing up to the curtain, I eased it aside and slipped in. There she was, sleeping peacefully in her hammock. I felt some reluctance about what I was thinking of, but it was for her sake, not mine.

When I had done my task, I slipped back out, and into the night.

* * *

**They say desperate times call for desperate measures, but just what did Balto do? And will he find Ben?**


	23. Taking the Wheel

**You wondering what Balto did? Well, you'll have to be patient and wait to find out, because Balto has other business to attend to.**

* * *

There was no moon that night, only the light of the stars to walk by. But I was part wolf, and could see well enough to find my way through the jungle by that. I stuck to clear paths whenever possible, keeping my senses tuned for any sign of snakes or pirates.

I soon found the clearing, and a boulder which, with a little imagination, looked like a whale swimming through the grass. I made for it. "Ben?" I whispered. There was no sign of him except his boat, crudely shaped but well-constructed and quite seaworthy. It wasn't made from planks, but wooden poles over which he had stretched tanned goatskins, and sealed the seams with pitch he must have gotten from somewhere.

Then it dawned on me: the ship! There were three keys to winning this standoff: Jenna, the map, and the ship, the only one we didn't have. If we could get the ship from the pirates, we'd be able to get away and leave them helpless. I hefted the boat and found it light enough to carry, so with no further delay I headed toward the sea.

In very little time I made it to the shore, and there out on the water lay the _Aurora,_ perched like a great swan on the waves. I slipped the dinghy into the water and rowed as quietly as I could out to the ship. Securing the boat to a rope someone had left dangling over the side, I climbed up that same rope onto the deck. There was no one in sight up on deck, but dried blood on the deck told me of the struggle there had been when the pirates left on board took the ship. I was looking for cover and was just about to duck inside a coil of ropes when I realized it was already taken... by a dead fox! I remember now, though I'm surprised I ever did, that he wore a black vest and a red cap. My stomach lurched at the thought that this might be one of the honest crew, but then a second look told me that it was one of the pirates. Still, I had to force myself not to throw up. Why was there a body on deck, anyway? I would have thought even pirates would be decent enough to at least throw them overboard like most sailors would.

Then I heard a groan nearby, deep and throaty. I knew and dreaded that voice. It was Scroup the wolverine! Casting a furtive look around I spied him, lying prone on the deck. A dark patch around his right leg testified a wound.

Picking up a sword that happened to be lying on deck, I approached and extended the point toward his barrel chest. "Surrender," I said, sounding braver than I felt.

He looked up and lurched in surprise. "The wolf pup!" he exclaimed. "What are ye doing here? They thought ye were dead."

"We wolves have a knack for getting out of messes," I said. "Now, where are the rest of the pirates aboard? Tell me the truth or it will be your last lie."

He coughed. "I be the only one," he rumbled. "They all went ashore t' storm the blockade and left me 'n Scragg over there..." he pointed in the direction of the dead fox, "T' mind the ship."

"So you got drunk and fought, and you won," I surmised.

"Aye," he agreed, "Though 'e got me a pretty nasty stab, 'e did." He pointed to his leg.

"Well," I said, "I'm taking the ship right now. If you help me, I'll bandage your leg and get you some food. Otherwise, you can just stay there."

He rasped a bit. "Throw in some brandy fer the pain and yer talkin' square."

"The captain ordered no alcohol on board except for the wine we used to purify water supplies," I replied.

"Aye, but as ye sees, we smuggled some aboard anyway. There was plenny in the hold, and if 'tain't there, ye'll find it hidden in most of our bunks, usually under the pillas."

I made a face at these conniving sneaks. But, I knew I couldn't handle the ship alone, so I agreed. Inside the forecastle, I discovered, was a scene of chaos. Every locked place had been torn open in their search for the map, and I guessed they had done the same in the cabins. A surprising number of empty bottles rolled back and forth, clinking together. None of the pirates, I guessed, stayed sober long after we left the ship. But there were no full bottles of anything in there, so I went down to the hold and managed to find one half-full of brandy, along with some water, cheese, raisins, biscuits, and pickled fruit. I also found a pistol, checked to see it was loaded, and stuck it in my belt under my shirt. With Scroup around I had a feeling I'd need it. I brought the food and drink up, along with a roll of bandages I fetched from what were left of Doctor Boris' things.

Only after I had set down my share of the food and had a long drink of water did I give him the brandy, which he guzzled dry and then tossed aside. "Ah, that's the stuff!"

I gave him water, which he declined, and food, which he greedily devoured, and then he made a weak effort to rise to his feet.

"Now," I told him, wanting no mischief, "I'll have you know I've armed myself, and I'll be captain until we get Captain Orde back on board. We're taking this ship up to the North point. Alright?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded. "Right enough," he said. "I see I've had my bit, and now I'm done. I'd sail 'er up to Execution Dock on your order, so I would!"

I wasn't buying it, but I nodded. "Right," I said. "And first I'm getting rid of those colors up there," I added, pointing to the Jolly Roger on the mast. "Better no flag at all than that one. I'll tend to that, and you get the ship ready to sail as best you can."

He saluted unsteadily. "Aye, Cap'n," he rumbled.

I climbed the rigging, keeping an eye on Scroup down below as he followed my orders. Once at the top, I ripped the skull and crossbones from the pole, rolled it up, and tossed it out as if I were heaving a log into the fireplace back at the Admiral Benbow. It fluttered open and waved back and forth on its way down into the sea. "God save the king," I said, "And good riddance to Long John Steele."

As I looked out over the island and saw the stockade's clearing from my swaying perch (the treetops hid my view of the stockade itself), I suddenly realized how foolish my actions had been. True, I had the ship under my command, but what would the others think of my disappearance? The squire and doctor, my good friends? Muk, Luk, and the other honest sailors who remained, my ship mates? Captain Orde, who tough as he was I had almost viewed, albeit distantly, as a surrogate father? And what about Jenna? I had promised her I would never let her down, and now I had disappeared on her. She had no way of knowing what I had done the night before, and Heaven only knew how she'd respond if she found out. My heart felt as heavy as the ship's belly as I thought of it, but there was nothing to do now except get the ship to secluded harbor and hope to make amends later.

* * *

**Let's hope Balto lives that long aith a killing machine like Scroup on board. Fasten your seatbelts, folks. It's going to be a bumpy ride.**


	24. Battle for the Aurora

**Let's see how Balto and that scallawag Scroup are getting along.**

* * *

The winds were blowing west, which worked just fine since we were on the north-east side of the island. Scroup told me how to steer the ship, and after a few false starts I succeeded. We reached the north end of the island, where we had to wait for the tide so we could beach her. Neither of us had been strong enough to haul up the anchor back where I took the ship, so we'd had to cut the rope, and now the only way to dock was to beach. Scroup explained to me that the trick for this was to wait for high tide and then bring her up close to shore. Then it was a matter of running a good, strong rope out to one of the trees, and the Aurora would stay put like a leashed puppy when the tide went out. Then, in order to sail, we needed only wait for high tide again. As we sat waiting for the right tide to beach, another problem dawned on me: who would stay with the ship? I had no intention of leaving Scroup unsupervised. His eyes were treacherous enough when I was watching him. And I had to get back to the others, especially Jenna, wherever they had gotten to by this point.

As we ate and I mulled this over, Scroup spoke up. "Cap'n, mind I ain't a dainty beast, but Scragg o'er there ain't too ornamental, is 'e? Supposin' you was to pitch 'im overboard, eh?"

I shook my head. "I respect the dead, even pirates," I said. I had covered Scragg with a loose bit of canvas, meaning to arrange a proper burial for him later on the island. "I'm not going to pitch him over, even if I were strong enough."

Scroup smacked his lips. "Well, you spoke up free, and you be the cap'n now, sure 'nough."

I was suspicious of his sudden agreeability, especially when he asked me to go down and fetch him some wine, claiming the brandy – he was now on his second bottle that day – was suddenly too strong for his head. But I decided to play along for the moment and find out what I could, so I agreed. I went down as loudly as I could, slipped off my shoes, and ran along the forecastle gallery, up the forecastle ladder, and popped my head out of the fore companion. I knew he wouldn't think to look there, but I was careful anyway. My suspicions paid off as I saw him painfully make his way to the covered body, pull the cloth aside, and remove a dagger, red to the hilt. This he concealed in his shirt and crawled back to his place after putting the cloth back so I wouldn't suspect anything.

My blood ran cold, for now I knew I was in a bad spot. He could kill me now anytime he wanted, although what he intended to do after that was impossible to guess. And desperate as I was, I really didn't want to use that pistol. Hastily, I hatched a plan, knowing he would get rid of me as soon as I turned my back to him. I went back down and grabbed a random bottle of wine along with some rum, the strongest I could find. I hid the rum in my pocket, tugging my shirt out to cover it, and almost as an afterthought took off Jenna's bandanna and stuck it in my pocket where I thought it would be safer. Then I retrieved my shoes and came back up as he expected. I found him laying in his spot, feigning weakness. I gave him the wine, which he drank with his favorite toast, "Here's luck!"

We went back to waiting for the tide, and I began to grow agitated. Anxious for Scroup to make his move, anxious for Jenna and the others back on shore, anxious for _something_ to happen.

At last the tide was at its peak, and I ran the ship up as close to shore as I could without trapping her there. As I did, Scroup remarked, "Cap'n, I'm thinkin' you be off tae see yer frien's, I'll be mindin' the ship. But don' lay me too many supplies; I'm not gonna be much longer fer this here world."

"I'd pray for God's mercy, then, with a conscience like yours," I told him.

His voice grew rougher. "Oh, you'll be prayin' alright." And I turned to see him staggering toward me, knife in his hand and murder in his eyes.

Sidestepping to make more room, I slipped the rum from my pocket. "Then let me drink a toast to you before I go!" I yelled, wrenching the cork from the bottle. I gripped it by the bottom end and swung it like a sword, splashing the liquid in a wide arc across his eyes.

"Aaarrgh!" he bellowed as I ran for the rigging. It was the best place I could think of at the moment to get out of his reach. I made it to the side of the ship and jumped to the ropes as he stumbled after me, listening for my footsteps. The rum had left his eyes red, and he moved hesitantly up the ropes after me with the bloody knife gripped in his teeth, slowed by his blurred vision and wounded leg.

"Scroup!" I called down to him, "I don't want to fight!"

"Well, that's too bad," he growled. "'Cause I be wanting to kill ye!"

I reached the top of the rigging and stood with my back to the mast. I hastily pulled the pistol out of my belt and pointed it at him, but I didn't cock it. "Don't make me shoot you!" I called.

He stopped near the top and pulled the knife from his teeth, drawing it back. "Yer ain't got the guts," he bellowed. "But I does!" And he flung the knife.

It would have stuck me through if I had stayed put, but instead I jumped from my perch, dropped through a hole in the netting of ropes, caught hold of the rigging, and swung my feet into his chest. The wolverine wasn't ready for that, and with his arms flailing he fell off the rigging.

"Scroup!" I cried. I hadn't wanted to kill him, but now I could only hang there and watch as he fell, bounced once off the rigging, and hit his neck on the rail before plunging into the sea. I winced. Even Scroup couldn't survive a fall like that.

As I dangled there, I found myself hoping for mercy on the wretched beast's soul if he had one. Then I clambered through the ropes and made my way down to the deck of the ship. There was much to be done before the tide ran out.

I managed to get a rope tied onto the prow of the ship with a slip knot, throwing it out to the end of the pole and then jerking it tight and throwing a loop or two more around it just to be sure. Then I swung down and out over the shallows so low my boots skimmed the water, then let the rope slide through my hands as I reached the peak of the swoop. My landing wasn't the best, but at least I made it in one piece as I struck the water and the sandy bottom with a splash. Knowing I didn't have much time, I ran to a good stout tree and looped the rope three times around its trunk. I added a knot, as Scroup had instructed, then ran back out to the ship. I tossed the end up over the front of the ship so that it hung down, pulled it tight, and brought it over the line leading to shore. A few repetitions of this and I had a good, solid knot with the remainder of the rope hanging there as a way to get aboard. I dog-paddled to Ben's boat where it was still leashed to the ship, untied it, and headed back for shore.

As I walked, a dismal feeling came over me. I had captured the ship, and certainly the pirates would never find it. But what now? I had no idea where my friends were, and they had no idea where I was. For all either of us knew, the other could be dead in one of who-knew-how-many ways. I had no companions, no direction, and no idea what to do next.

After thinking hard, I headed for as near as I could guess to the direction of the clearing. At least I could return Ben's boat.

Carrying the boat was much harder in the heat of the day than it had been in the cool of the night. I finally lifted it upside-down over my head to serve as a sort of umbrella, but even so the air was hot, and I was soon panting hard. So hard that I didn't even hear the approaching footsteps until a voice cried, "Get him!"

I lifted the boat higher and saw the pirates about twenty yards away. Terrified, I dropped the boat and ran. I only made it a short distance before one of them tackled me and knocked me down flat. "Grab him!" he barked to another pirate. I recognized the voice as Star. A moment later Kaltag's muscular arms wrapped around my right arm, and Star took my left.

"Bring him here!" came Steele's harsh tone.

"Let me go!" I cried as they dragged me to my feet. I twisted and struggled, but it was no use. Kaltag alone could have held me prisoner easily. Against two, it was no contest. And the other pirates gathering around me now? That just wasn't fair.

"Look, Balto, just stop struggling and it'll all be over soon," Star said. "I don't know what Steele's gonna do to you, but we gotta do what he says."

Kaltag agreed. "He is the most malicious, the most unmerciful, the most hard-boiled..."

"He's heartless," finished Star. Kaltag released me with one arm and bopped Star over the head. Seizing the chance, I twisted, spun, and tore free of their grasp. I tried to run, only to crash head-on into Nikki's tankard-sized fist.

"Youse shoulda stayed wherever your friends went," he muttered as he, Kaltag, Star, and one other pirate took my arms now. For good measure, I felt a sharp point pressing into my back. I turned my head and saw a red fox, his head wrapped in a cloth and his long, narrow sword pointing my way.

"Bring him to me!" ordered Steele. And they did, dragging me up to him as he leaned on his crutch and drew a pistol from his belt. I wanted to struggle, but with a pistol to my front, a sword to my back, and pirates on every side, where could I run?

At last the pirates stopped and there I was, Steele and his pistol not three feet away, and the parrot on his shoulder.

"Keel-haul the swab!" squawked Captain Flint.

I glared at the bird. _I hope a cat eats you,_ I thought.

Steele hobbled a step forward on his crutch and held the gun to my chin. "Where did they go?" he growled. "Tell me, wolf-dog, where are the others?"

* * *

**Uh-oh, now they're demanding info he can't give them. We know how that kind of stuff always goes.**


	25. Trapped, but Not Alone Maybe

**Balto's managed to get himself in pretty deep. But he's about to find out that this whole mess, and Steele in particular, goes a lot deeper than he ever imagined.**

**Be ready, reader. For things are about to change. Drastically.**

* * *

I gulped, and I could feel the gun move down and up with the contracting muscles. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to kill me. "I don't know," I admitted. "I wasn't with them."

"He wasn't, boss," Nikki agreed. "We looked very close when dey left de stockade. He's wasn't dere."

Steele looked at him, then looked back at me and pressed the gun barrel into my throat until I had to twist my neck to keep breathing. "Do you know where they went?"

"No," I said. "No, I was...somewhere else when they left the stockade."

"Yeah, some friends you've got there, Balto," cracked Kaltag. "Left you to fend for your-"

"Quiet!" Steele ordered. He looked hard at me again and growled. "If you weren't with them, then where were you?"

I thought of lying. It would be foolish to tell them the ship was gone, but Mother always disciplined me very firmly to never lie, even if my life depended on it. "Stole the ship," I said, trying to sound bolder than I felt. "I killed Scroup and sailed the ship somewhere you won't find it."

There was a moment of silence, and then everyone, including Steele, broke into laughter. "A pup like you killed him?!" asked Kaltag, slumped over my arm in hysterics.

"Nobody could kill him!" giggled Star. "Even Flint himself couldn't kill that wolverine!"

Steele gave me an amused look. "I do love a good sense of humor," he rumbled. Then he pointed the gun at me again. "But I never did like liars much. I ought to blow your brains out here and now."

I just glared at him. I knew all I needed to know. If Steele didn't know where the others were, they must be alive. And Jenna wasn't here, which meant that she was safe at least for the moment. "Go ahead," I said. "I'm not afraid to die."

His eyes widened a moment, and then he withdrew the gun. "I'd kill you here and now if your friends weren't still on the loose," he said. "But I never trust a beast that ain't dead, not even my own crew. So you'll be my protection from now on. And if, by some chance, you are telling the truth about my ship, you'll tell us where it is once we catch the rest of your pesky lot. If you don't, I'll kill 'em all one by one until you do."

"Keel-hauuul!" screeched Flint.

Looking grim, Steele put the gun away and spun on his one leg. "Back to the fort, lads!" he barked sharply. "Tomorrow, we'll go hunting."

We returned to the stockade, and they proceeded to tie my hands so far behind my back, I thought my arms would break. Then, as if they thought I might slip out of that, they wound several coils of rope around my arms and chest until I couldn't move a muscle between my neck and my waist. I barely had enough room in those ropes to breathe.

"Hold it," Steele growled, raising a hand. He trumped over to them and took me by a loose end of rope. "Stay here. I'll be back after I have a talk with this wolf. Nikki, shoot anyone who leaves the palisade and anyone who comes near it 'cept for me and our little insurance policy."

I was confused, and more than a little uneasy, as Steele led me on that leash well away from the stockade. Once we were out of sight in the jungle, he hefted me with surprising strength in one arm and sat me down on a rock. He then proceeded to lean back against a tree and regard me with a forlorn expression on his face. "Sorry about all this, lad," he said.

I was baffled. "You?" I asked. "You're sorry? You had those pirates kill several fine sailors, you tried to kill us, you're after Jenna, _and_ you tied me up, and now you're sorry?"

"Balto," he said, his face deeply contrite, "I didn't want any of that. I never even wanted to be a pirate. But I was taken by Flint's crew when I was only your age, and once a pirate joins, he's never allowed to leave. Lord knows I've tried, but if I did, even if I let them think I was getting soft, they'd have gutted us both, you and me, in a heartbeat."

He sounded so sorry it was hard not to believe him. "What about the badger I saw you murder?"

He hung his head. "A sacrifice, to be sure. But it was me or him, and if I go, there's no one to keep them in line. You saw me try to give your crew mates a chance to get out of this alive."

He was right. I had seen that, but then... "What about Jenna?" I asked.

He sighed and shook his head. "Lord forgive me the way I've treated her," he murmured. "My crew mates put me up to that as well, I fear. Oh, they were subtle about it, but I knew if I didn't go after her, they'd finish me off faster than you could say 'knife.'"

"Walk the plank," squawked Captain Flint from his shoulder, and I think even the bird sounded sad.

Steele then looked up at me, his face like that of a beggar on the brink of starvation pleading for a bowl of stew. "I'm telling you, pup, I don't want this at all. I don't even want Jenna. I'd much rather you have her; I could see well enough you got along when we were on the ship."

I nodded. It was true, Jenna was a good friend. And a beautiful girl, too. "I'd rather she decide," I said, as if it made any difference at the moment.

"Well, I'll tell you what," he said. He tapped his temple with a finger. "This could be the chance for both of us. I've got a way out of this figured, and if we play our cards right, we'll both walk away rich as kings. Your crew mates'll be safe, and the pirates'll be no one's worry anymore. And not only that, but the little lady will be free to choose any chap she wants, no matter what that snub-nosed pa of hers says."

I could hardly believe it. It was completely ridiculous; he might as well have claimed to be my brother. And yet it made so much sense. What if he really was just a prisoner of the pirates, bound by their lifestyle as I was by their ropes? And anyway, what choice did I have? If he was lying, I'd be dead either way. Better to go along with it for now. "How?" I asked.

"You and me," he said. "When these swabs have dug up the gold for us, ye tell me where the ship is. To save your friends, o' course. Do it good and loud so ye can be heard a ways off, because I've a feeling your friends are keeping an eye on us. Once the ship is found, I'll order the gold brought aboard and let everyone get drunk. Then you and me will shove 'em off, hail your crew, and be away for England scot-free. What do you say?"

It sounded like a trap to me. If I cooperated with his plan, he could kill me any time he wanted, especially once I told him where the ship was. But as long as I went along with it, I reasoned, I could keep him busy and hopefully buy the others more time. "Alright," I said, "But as a gesture of trust, do you think you could ease up on the ropes a little?"

He grinned. "Of course, of course. But not just this moment. We've got to keep them convinced that I ain't going soft on ye. But on my oath, I'll do what I can when I can, and ye may lay to that."

I nodded. It seemed I had no choice.

Whether or not Steele would keep his promise, I wasn't sure. But when we got back to the stockade, we found the other pirates gathered in a bunch. There were five of them, now that I had the presence of mind to notice: Nikki, Kaltag, Star, and two foxes – the brown one we'd had bound up at the fort, and a red one as well. I remembered they'd been so hostile to me on the ship that I'd never learned their names, and by the looks on their faces now, I was worried Steele might not get a chance to keep or break his promise.

"What are ye all staring at?" Steele demanded.

The other pirates seemed to push Nikki forward. He seemed nervous, but he held out a fist with the palm down. Steele extended a hand, and Nikki put something into it. I knew before I saw what it was: the black spot.

"Youse gotten us nowhere," said Nikki. "Wese coulda just finished dem off on duh ship and had no more trouble, but youse said to wait, and now dey got away. We sent a lookout up duh flagpole, an' he says duh ship ain't nowheres in sight."

I was getting worried that the pirates would kill Steele, who at least for the moment was the only thing between them and me, but another part of me was relieved I had beached the ship somewhere with lots of tall trees to hide it.

"So wese got no ship, no map, and duh rest uh duh crew is out dere somewhere, all because of youse. Now dere's dis her pup yuh won't let us gut neither. We want George Merry as our captain now," he pointed to the red fox, who drew himself up proudly, "So if youse don't resign as cap'n now, we'll make yus."

This last statement was emphasized by the whole crew drawing their knives.

I was terrified, but Steele seemed as calm as anything. He took a piece of dried fruit out of his pocket and fed it to Flint as if the pirates weren't even there. When the bird was done eating, Steele stroked his head and looked back to the crew. "So, that's how ye wants it, eh?" he asked. "Well, here's my answer. Yes, I wouldn't let ye kill those sailors before, and if ye had listened to me like I said, we'd all be right fine, back aboard the _Aurora_ and on the way to more plunder. Remember, lads, it was me that got us here at all, me that found out about this voyage and the map. And I've got us here our safety guarantee," he added, picking me up and holding me aloft. "They won't try anything fancy while we've got their pet wolf along. What's more, he's the only one that knows where the ship is hid, so how do ye expect to get her back without his throat in its proper place?"

The pirates started murmuring among themselves, and several lowered their weapons.

Steele put me down and reached into his coat pocket. "But if ye don't like my leadership, fine. Choose yerselves a new leader, an' let him be the one that takes this from me!" And he raised his hand, clutching...

The map?

No! It was the map! How had he gotten that? Now I could see my plan to turn this mess around turning on me. They had the map, and I had no way of knowing whether I was dog (or wolf) enough to keep from telling them where the ship was if they tortured me.

The pirates did not share my concern. They began chattering excitedly as the swarmed around us for a look at the map.

"Be that the map?" asked one of them.

"It must be!" another cried. "I can see Flint's own handwriting, clear as day!"

"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" cried the parrot.

Steele smirked as the other pirates began a chant. "Captain Silver! Captain Silver!" they cried with fists raised in the air. Even George, though a little displeased at first, quickly joined in the chant.

All night I sat, propped in a corner of the stockade and feeling like a useless fool. It seemed the pirates now had two out of three, and who knew where Jenna was or how long she could stay free?

Or again, what if Steele was telling the truth about not wanting her and lying about the rest? These cutthroats could sail off with me any time, and leave Jenna and the rest here to die. The only hope as far as I could see was that Steele might be telling me the whole truth. And from the rope encircling my feet and leading to Kaltag's wrist lest I try to escape, I doubted that.

The following morning was a bustle of activity. Pickaxes and shovels were gathered up, along with hatchets for breaking the locks off of chests filled with treasure. Also, they rounded up salted pork, bread, and brandy to carry along for the midday meal, although the amounts were easily five times what we would need. They were terribly wasteful, as I had seen the night before then they cooked an unthinkable amount of meat and carelessly threw the leftovers into the fire. They all gathered in the courtyard of the stockade now, with me beside Steele, a rope leash around my neck and tied around his waist to leave his hands free. I rubbed my wrists, glad at least that he had kept his promise about that.

"Why'd you untie the wolf pup?" asked Star.

Steele laughed coldly. "He is tied up, can't ye see that?" he asked, lifting the leash so high that the collar bit into my neck like a hangman's noose and I had to stand on the tips of my toes in order to breathe. "He'll be faster walking and less dead weight if he can move his hands proper. And now," he said, releasing the rope and pulling out the map, "Which shall we seek first? Flint's gold at 'bulk o' treasure,' the weapons at 'arms,' or the bar silver?"

"Gold!" the pirates shouted, lifting their tools in the air and shaking them wildly.

Steele grinned. "Gold it is, but keep yer eyes peeled for those lubbers. I reckon they ain't done with us yet, so look sharp and mind yer weapons! Half again a share to whoever brings me one dead, and double to anyone who brings me them alive for leverage on the wolf! But if ye kill the lady, I'll kill you painfully slow, and ye may lay to that!" And he proceeded to unfold the map and read the directions to "Bulk of treasure," which read,

_Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to the N of N.N.E._

_Skeleton Island E.S.E. And by E._

_Ten feet._

The directions were somewhat hard to decipher, and the X on the map was far too large to be much use as a marker, but I had no time to worry about that. They would take me wherever they wanted whether I liked it or not, and I had more than enough to worry about already. Steele was a good actor, one way or the other, and he had either me or the pirates at least partly fooled. I was glad that he had taken steps to encourage them to spare the honest crew's lives at least for the moment, and happier still that the pirates were buying it. But I also knew, given a choice, he'd take plundering on the high seas with the pirates over a narrow escape from the gallows, which was the best he'd get from us. My only hope was that the honest crew would stay away altogether and perhaps find the ship and escape. I couldn't help thinking how ironic it was; dogs always tried to say that us wolves and half-breeds were cunning and untrustworthy, and here this back-stabbing purebred was using me as insurance.

We set out with the pirates chanting and Captain Flint squawking, but both soon tired and decided to save their breath for the hike. I took some satisfaction in the endurance given by my wolf's blood, but even so it was a grueling trek to take with experienced sea dogs. The pirates fanned out, meandering slightly but staying more or less in formation, with Steele and I more or less at the middle and a little way behind. He had a rough time keeping up on his one leg, and many times I had to stop and help him on the loose gravel or he would have fallen backwards down the hill. For his part, he instructed me to take the rope which was around my neck and wind a loop around my wrist so he wouldn't choke me, and we kept on like that. I was so occupied with being a second crutch that I scarcely had time to notice my surroundings. That was too bad, because from what I did have time to notice, and what I would see later, it was one of the more pleasant parts of the island. Grass gave way to flowering shrubs with their pleasant aromas. Nutmeg trees stood here and there in thickets among the tall red-trunked pines, producing a mingled scent not unlike mother cooking in the kitchen. I sighed, missing her deeply. Some son I was, going off with promises of money and then disappearing without a trace to leave her, heartbroken and alone, to fend for herself. Just like my father.

We had gone about half a mile and were getting close to the ridge of a plateau when Star, a way off to the left, began to scream like he was being murdered. He screamed over and over as the others began to run toward him.

"He can't 'ave found the gold yet," said Nikki, running past us. "It's s'posed to be higher up."

Nikki was dead right, for when we got up there we found the other buccaneers gathered around something far different from any treasure. At the foot of a good-sized pine, surrounded by creeping vines which had begun to lift some of the smaller pieces, were the bones of a dog, still clothed in some scraps of fabric. I almost threw up, and I think the others were all similarly disturbed. Even Long John Steele grew strangely quiet.

Kaltag began to ramble as he often did. "This is the most gruesome, the most revolting, the most unthinkable-"

"It's not good!" Star blurted. Kaltag swung a fist to Star's skull, knocking him flat.

Nikki knelt by the bones and examined them. "He was a sea dog," he said. Tugging at the cloth, he added, "At least dis is sum good sea-cloth."

Steele snorted, though it sounded more forced than derisive to me. "Of course he was a sea-dog," he snarled. "Who did you think you'd find out here, a bishop? Take a look at the way those bones are. That's not natural, I'll be bound."

Sure enough, now that I thought to notice it, the bones weren't in a natural position. Aside from some minor disarray, probably thanks to birds and the vines, the skeleton lay perfectly straight – footpaws pointing in one direction, hands raised above him like a diver's pointing exactly the other way.

"W-w-what do you think it means?" asked Star.

"I'll tell ye what it means," growled Steele. "There's the bones, and there's the tip of Skeleton Island, sticking up like a tooth. Someone take a compass and do a reading on this dog."

Merry did, and the body pointed exactly in the direction of the island. Lined up with it, the compass read E.S.E, and by E.

"Ha!" laughed Steele. "I thought so. These bones 're a pointer to the gold, and make no mistake on that."

Brown fox coughed. "It still scares me thinking of Flint, I don't mind saying it."

Steele nodded. "This is one of his jokes, I'd swear on it. Six he brought with him, and killed them all, and left this one for a compass, shiver my timbers! See how long those arms are? That'd be Allardice. Remember him?"

"I do," said Kaltag. "He owed me money, and took my knife ashore with him."

"I'll tell you this," said Steele, "If Flint still walked, we'd be in a bad spot. There were six of them, and six of us, and bones are all that's left of them."

"But I saw him dead with dese same eyes," rumbled Nikki. "Bones took me in, and dere he laid, with pennypieces on his eyes."

"Y-y-yeah," stammered Star, back on his feet, "But if there were ghosts, Flint would be one!"

"He went down with a fight," agreed Kaltag. "Raging, calling for rum, and singing in his last hours. 'Fifteen Men' was the only song for him, and I never liked it since."

"Ha!" snorted Steele. "He's dead, and he's no ghost, least not by day. Of that you can be certain. Now move along. It's gold we're after, not bones."

"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" screeched Flint.

We did move on, following the line marked by the bones, but no longer did the pirates spread out or chatter. We stayed in a tight group and spoke almost entirely in whispers. The terror of the dead buccaneer had fallen on all their spirits and mine like a collapsed house. I reached into my pocket to rub Jenna's bandanna, hoping to find some comfort in it, and had to struggle to hide my dismay when I found it was gone. It must have fallen out who-knew-where.

I never would have thought they could, but things got worse still after that.

* * *

**Great. Just great. Now we've got nothing but questions. Just whose side is Steele really on here, the good guys or the bad guys? Was all that stuff he told Balto true? How did he get the map? What kind of maniac was Flint, to murder one of his own crew for a trail marker? Where is Jenna's bandanna? And if Balto lives long enough to get back to her, how will he explain his actions or the loss of her gift?**

**And (dare we ask) how could things get any worse?**


	26. A Ghost of a Chance

**Well, somebody had to ask how it could get worse. Enter the unexpected company.**

* * *

It must have been the dampening of their spirits that prompted the whole crew to stop as soon as we reached the top of the ascent. The plateau we were now on tilted slightly west, giving us a good view of everything in that direction and much to the east, clear out to open sea. Not a sail nor living soul was to be seen.

Steele took some bearings with his compass and grinned. "Three tall trees about in the right line from skeleton Island," he said. "Spy-Glass shoulder must be that lower point there." He inhaled deeply and smacked his lips. "I can almost smell that gold right now, but let's eat first."

The others lacked his enthusiasm. "I don't want anything," said Star. "It's Flint, that's what it is."

As if on cue, a ragged voice like a pitted sword blade cut through the solitude, seeming to echo from everywhere at once.

"_Fifteen men on a dead man's chest,_

_Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!"_

Every one of those pirates went down like they'd been shot. Even through their fur I could see the blood drain from their faces like juice squeezed from a grape, and their tails went straight between their legs as if to never come out again. Nikki and Kaltag leaped to their feet, looking so terrified they didn't know which way to run. The two foxes clawed at each other and then clung to one another in stark fright, and Star huddled on the ground, hands over his head and every inch of him shaking, chattering something about having been brought up well before he fell in with bad company. Steele sat in bewilderment, unable to rise.

Come to think of it, I wasn't that brave either. I stared around, expecting at any moment to see a face like that of the skeleton right up in mine. I have a feeling if I had gotten a lock on the song I would have torn off in the other direction, leash or no leash, even if the other way was right off the edge of the plateau.

Thankfully, the song stopped in mid-note, as suddenly as if a hand had been clapped over the singer's mouth.

"It's Flint!" cried the brown fox with the bandage.

Steele shook his head and raised himself on his crutch. "Belay that. It's someone skylarking, someone flesh and blood, and ye may lay to that. Can't name the voice, but it must be one o' them lubbers trying to scare us. Look sharp to your weapons and let's be off."

We did, although now the pirates were even more wary than before. Each had a gun or sword in each hand, and Star had a knife in his teeth, either to look tougher or stop them from chattering. Kaltag and Nikki kept looking this way and that, and the two foxes stayed in the middle of the group.

"Enough!" Steele bellowed. "It's daylight, you clods! Everyone knows ghost don't walk by-"

"_Darby McGraw!"_ It was the voice again, wailing now rather than singing. _"Darby McGraw! Darby McGraw! Fetch the rum, Darby!"_

The brown fox's eye bugged so far I thought they'd fly right out of his head. "I remember that!" he cried. "Calling me to fetch the rum!"

"Them was his last woids above board," rumbled Nikki.

By now I was praying fervently inside. Surely a ghost would be stopped from hurting someone innocent. Someone would stop it – God, a guardian angel, I didn't know. But at that moment, I would have clung to anything that might protect me from this spirit.

"That fixes it!" echoed the red fox. "Let's get out of here!"

Steele whirled around, pointing a pistol at the dissident. "Stow yer gab!" he bellowed. "Nobody on the island knew o' the name Darby 'cept us. He used a different name on the ship." He panted briskly and added, "Shipmates, I'm here for the gold, and nobody's going to stop me from getting it, living or spirit. I never feared Flint in life, and for seven hundred thousand pound that's ahead of us I'll face him dead! When did a gentleman of fortune ever show his stern to that much over a boozy sailor with a blue mug, and him dead at that?"

"B-b-but Steele," Star stammered, "You shouldn't cross a spirit, especially one like Flint's."

"Spirit, huh," snorted Steele. "Lemme ask you something. You ever heard of a spirit that cast a shadow?"

The pirates all looked at each other.

"No."

"Never."

"Don't see how it could."

Steele grinned. "Well, neither have I, but I heard that voice echoing. So if a spirit doesn't cast a shadow, then how do you suppose one could echo?"

It seemed pretty weak to me, but those pirates were a superstitious bunch, and they bought it wholesale.

"Dat makes sensh," said Nikki. "Yous pretty smart dere, Steele. And y knows, dere's somethin' else. Dat voice sure sounded like Flint, but dere was somethin' off about it. It was more like, uh..."

"By the powers, Ben Gunn!" laughed Steele, clapping Nikki on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, that was it!" echoed Kaltag. "That voice was precisely, exactly, absolutely..."

"It had to be-" Kaltag didn't even let Star finish, just knocked him out again.

"But Benn Gunn's no more alive than Flint," Darby reasoned. "I saw him jump over myself, and there's not a chance on earth he coulda swam here, nor anywhere else 'cept Davy Jone's Locker."

"Deh, who cares?" asked Nikki. "He was chicken hearted anyways. Nobody minded him dead or alive."

"No, no they didn't," agreed Steele.

I held my tongue, wondering what they would say if they knew who had spiked their crew mates while they slept. It was extraordinary how their faces brightened and their spirits seemed to revive. Soon they were chattering at length with intervals of listening. Then, hearing no more from the trees, they shouldered their tools and headed out.

We soon reached the first of the tall trees Steele had spotted, and by the bearing it proved to be the wrong one. So did the second. The third was the biggest tree I had ever seen; a giant pine towering two hundred feet over a clump of underwood, with a trunk as big as a cottage and a shadow like a mountain's. It was big enough to be noticeable from the sea east or west.

My captors were oblivious to its size, though. All that occupied their minds was that somewhere in its spreading shadow lay seven hundred thousand pounds of gold, along with some precious gems most likely. Their eyes seemed to burn and their steps sprang like a gazelle's. Avery fiber of their souls seemed bound up in the treasure, the lifetime of extravagance before them.

Steele was the worst of them all. He cursed at the flies buzzing around him and jerked on the line so hard I thought he was going to break my neck. I knew now that once he found the treasure, he would slit every honest throat on the island, starting with mine. Just like Captain Flint, that scoundrel who had on this very plateau murdered his six accomplices.

We reached a clearing, and the whole crew broke into a run. But after about ten paces they slowed in disbelief and came to a stop at the edge of a pit littered with broken, rotted boards and lined in places with moss.

It was as clear as anything. The treasure was gone.

* * *

**As Hunter (this one from Road Rovers) would say, "Yet another unexpected twist. Bummer."**

**Let's see how the pirates handle this news.**


	27. The Pit

**Let's see, a bunch of pirates around an empty hole in the ground that was supposed to be filled with treasure. Anyone else think it might not be empty for long?**

* * *

The pirates stood there, staring as dumbly as if they had been struck. For Steele, it seemed to pass instantly. His very soul had been bound on this treasure, but now he pulled up short and changed his plan before the others had enough time to realize the disappointment.

"Balto," he whispered, slipping me a double-barreled pistol, "Take that, and be ready for trouble."

There was no time for anything else to be said. The buccaneers, full of oaths and curses, began leaping into the pit to dig with their fingers, tossing aside the boards in their haste for some trace of the gold.

George found a piece and held it up with a string of words my mother would have cracked his skull for. The coin passed from hand to hand as Steele edged himself and me northwards to what seemed a more defensible position. "Two guineas!" the fox shouted up at Steele. "There's your seven hundred thou, you wooden-headed fool!" He turned to his crew mates. "He knew, he must have known, all along!"

"Still angling for captain, are you?" grumbled Steele. "You're persistent. I hate persistent."

But now the crew seemed entirely in George's favor. They all climbed out of the pit and drew their weapons, though I saw with some hope that they did so on the far side of it from us.

"Now, mates, let's..." but as the fox raised his arm, apparently planning to lead a charge, crack! crack! crack! Three shots rang out from the woods. George Merry fell headlong into the pit, and Star went down clutching his leg. At the same moment, shouts began to sound all around us. The other three pirates took off running as fast as their feet would go, more shots firing as trees splintered and dirt exploded around them.

"After them, lads!" cried a welcome voice. I could mistake that deep voice for no one else: the Squire!

"Forwaaarrrd!" cried the doctor in his grating Russian accent. He, the captain, and two other sailors charged after the pirates, who quickly disappeared into the trees. My own shipmates returned to us, and Steele at once set about trying to butter them up.

"Ah, gents," he said. "Looks like you showed up just in the nick for Hawkins and me. Don't think I could have held the pirates off with this here pist-" he stopped suddenly and looked down. Every weapon, right down to the pistol he'd had in his hand, had been stripped off without his notice, and lo and behold! in the bedlam of gunshots that had gone on before, the rope between us had been cut clean through.

"You wouldn't be looking for these, would you, Captain Silver?" asked a taunting voice behind him.

He and I spun around to see a grinning sea-dog behind us twirling the pistol on his right index finger and clutching all the other weapons with his left arm.

"Ben Gunn!" we both cried.

"Aye, it's me alright. I take it you two missed me, though it's been a sight longer since you've seen or thought of old Ben, hasn't it?" He caught the pistol by the grip and glared at Steele.

The buccaneer laughed sourly. "To think of you," he chuckled. "I never knew ye had it in ye. You would have made a good pirate, shiver me timbers."

"Aye, that I would," Ben agreed. "But a better sailor. I'm with Captain Orde, now."

Steele jerked as the squire seized his coat from behind. "And you, Long John Steele, are under arrest."

The pirate chieftain stiffened briefly, then sagged. "Aye, suppose I am," he confessed. "I did my bit, now I've got to pay."

I almost felt sorry for him.

"Right," declared the squire. "Now, let's be off for a bit of a victory celebration, shall we?"

"Wait," I asked, "Where are the others? Jenna, Muk, Luk, and the captain?"

"The captain is vell," Doctor Boris reported, "But I had to insist he remain somevhere safe until the fighting vas over. His arm must not be moved. And the others I sent around the coast to take care of the pirates' boats. Ve should go to meet them now."

As we set off through the woods for the rendezvous point, the doctor fell to the rear with me and I felt him slip something into my dangling paw. I looked at it. Jenna's bandanna!

"Ben found it vhile he vas following you," he whispered. With a wink, he added, "I do not think it vould go vell if Miss Jenna knew you lost it.

"Ben was following me?" I asked. And so the whole story was explained to me, rather jumbled at first. And that half-crazed sailor Ben was the hero of it from start to finish.

To begin with, Ben had never been a willing member of Flint's crew. He had been captured, and given the choice to either serve with Flint or die. He had agreed, a choice he often regretted, and after some years (during which Flint had buried his hoard on the island) he had jumped ship and would have drowned if not for some dolphins that swam him to foreign shores. Peniless, he signed on for work on a merchant vessel bound for his home country. But while passing the island, he told them Flint's treasure was buried there. They found nothing, and after six days they marooned him with a spade, a pickaxe, a musket and some shot, and told him he could hunt for the treasure the rest of his life. It was he who had found the skeleton, then the gold, and then on many laborious trips he had carted it back to his cave.

Knowing this, he had met up with the honest crew on their way away from the fort the day after I disappeared. He told them the map was useless, and so when some of the pirates chased them against their treaty, the squire dropped the map. Steele had taken the bait and called his crew off, giving them a chance to escape. Once they were settled in, Ben had left them safe in his cave with stocks of fruit he had dried and meat he had salted himself, and doubled back to spy on the pirates. His discovery that I had been captured put a hole in their plans to let the pirates find the pit and then kill each other with their squabbles, so the following day, they had set out into two teams. Jenna, Muk, and Luk had been sent around by the coast with ropes and a pickaxe to steal back the pirates' boats if they could and sink them if they couldn't. Ben had brought the rest to the pit to wait in ambush, and then sneaked up on the pirates and me to keep track of our progress. Sure enough, it was he who had harassed them with the ghostly voice, playing their superstitions like a musician.

"So if we hadn't caught the Hawkins pup, you would have just let them run me through, eh?" asked Steele almost cheerfully.

"Without a pang," agreed the squire.

I gave Steele a doubtful look. His calm attitude was just a little too relaxed, and something told me he had already devised some kind of backup scheme.

* * *

**Well, looks like everything's been sorted out now. Balto's back safe and sound, the treasure's been accounted for, the pirates are on the run, and Balto even managed to get Jenna's bandanna back (good thing, too; he'd be safer with the pirates than an angry woman). Only one question left. What's Steele up to now?**

**I would have made the chapter longer, but the long chapters are catching up ith me and I'm almost at the point where I still have writing to do. Sorry for any delays that may occur.**


	28. More Bad News

**Well, things are finally winding down, or are they? Let's see, Balto disappeared without leave, so the captain's going to want to talk with him. And there's still that matter to be cleared up with Jenna.**

**Hm, maybe he's not out of the woods after all...**

* * *

It didn't take us long to reach where Jenna and the others were. Several boats sat on shore, torn or broken by the polar bears' strength or stoved in with a pickaxe that must have been Jenna's. The saboteurs sat out on the water a ways, bobbing on one boat while two others trawled out behind them on lines. As soon as they saw us, they let out a cry of excitement and began rowing toward us. They fairly lunged out of the boat as they hit the sand, and before I could so much as cry "Help," Muk and Luk were subjecting me to the classic polar bear welcome, complete with bone-cracking hugs and embarrassing licks all over the face. After the doctor had chased them off of me and they promptly turned on him, Jenna came up and gave me a somewhat shy (and much to my relief, far more gentle) hug. "Balto, what were you thinking?" she asked.

The stupidity I'd been feeling since I stood at the top of the _Aurora's_ mast came over me all over again. "I'm sorry," I said. "I wanted to go find Ben, and then I thought if I stole the ship from the pirates we could all have a better chance to escape. I shouldn't have done it, I know."

"Stow the apologies," Ben cut in. "You did a marvelous job getting that schooner back, and none's the worse for the wear 'cept the pirates, 'specially this one here," he added, gesturing to Steele with a musket. Now, let's make back for the cave, eh?"

We all piled into the boats. Steele, hands bound and with the squire and another sailor to keep an eye on him, went in one. Muk and Luk rode with the other sailor in the second boat, and Ben rode with Jenna and me in the last, saying that after so many years with bristly old sailors or no sailors at all, he wanted some younger sailing companions for a change of pace. The doctor chose to follow us via the water, saying that after an ordeal like that ambush, he needed a nice cool swim.

It was smooth sailing the entire way to North Point, where we beached the boats at high tide as I had the ship. Ben led us on a short, easy walk through the woods to a place where another level of the plateau came up like a lean-to, forming a rock wall about twenty feet in height. In the rock wall was a jagged opening with smoke drifting out at the top.

I had been prepared by Ben's story, or so I thought. But nothing in the world could have prepared me for the spectacle within. The cave had rugged walls about twenty feet apart going thirty feet back, and the ceiling was roughly fifteen feet. Chests and crates sat around stacked as high as my head, along with bags so old that many had rotted and split, spilling gold and silver coins and mingled gems into piles big enough for a dog to lie on. A crackling fire burned in the middle of the cave, casting dancing orange light upon the heaps of treasure and the granite walls. And there on a bed of heather by the flames lay none other than Captain Orde.

"Captain!" I barked with delight.

He looked up and smiled, propping himself on his good arm. "Master Hawkins!" he called out, his crisp tone and formal British a sound for sore ears. "How good to see you again! None the worse for the wear, I take it?"

"None, sir," I replied, rapidly approaching. "It takes more than being kidnapped by pirates to finish me off."

He laughed. "Perhaps you should have told us that before you went gallavanting off like some fool hero."

I hung my head at this. "I'm very sorry," I said truthfully.

I felt an elbow in my ribs and heard the squire at my side. "He just called you a hero," he said in what passed for a whisper with his deep voice.

"Quite so," the captain replied. "A reckless hero, but then the two often go together. As it is, no harm done. You've escaped with your life, and the A_urora_ besides. I'd say a pardon's a fair trade for that."

I smiled as I, and then the rest, sat down around the fire. Ben, who was still a little unused to company, volunteered to tie Steele to a tree outside and then stand guard against the unlikely event of an attack.

The next day, it being a Sunday by Orde's reckoning, we rested. The only work anyone did was Ben going around to disarm his goat traps, reasoning that if it was alright to get a donkey out of a well on this day, then it should be acceptable to keep a goat out of a snare. Orde agreed, and gave him leave to go. I opted to accompany him. I don't know why, but there was something about him that drew me. His ease and familiarity with this place, his cunning and adaptability, were almost wolf-like. He was pure dog, and yet his ways were purely lupine, as if he bore within him the essence of both.

As we walked, he pointed out several places he'd grown fond of. He had placed trail markers that seemed ordinary enough, and yet once one looked at them it seemed silly that they could be missed. These markers led to many places: a clear spring running over rocks, where he claimed if you stood very still and learned to filter out the sound of the water, you could almost hear the trees growing. A clear ledge where one could watch the sun rise and set. A rock pool where he'd often found crabs and trapped fish, which he caught by hand or with crude spears to supplement his diet of goat.

We enjoyed the rest of our stroll, on which we saw quite a few different animals. Ben seemed delighted to show off his skills, from shimmying up trees to find eggs in birds' nests to sneaking up on unwary wild goats until he could take them by the legs. It was not long after he showed me this trick that we heard voices.

"I still says it was yous who got us into dis here mess," came Nikki's familiar grumble.

"Me?" demanded Kaltag. "That is the most ridiculous, the most nonsensical, the most impossible..."

"It's not your fault!" added Star, followed by a klunk.

Ben placed a paw on my shoulder. "Ye wait right here, matey," he hissed with a finger to his lips. "I'll go'n see what they're up to."

He slipped into a nearby bush and disappeared. A moment later I heard him cackle with glee about ten yards ahead. "Well looky here, Balto! I fancy meself a fine catcher, but this is the first time I ever got three goats at once!"

I guessed even before I came in sight what he had found. There, swinging from a grass rope suspended between two bent pines, were the dog trio themselves.

"You think we should let them down?" I asked.

"Yes," begged Star. "Please, my head feels like it's about to explode!"

"I dunno," Ben mused with a hand to his chin. "I be not so sure we can trust these rascals. Maybe we ought ter leave 'em fer the beast what lurks 'round this island."

"No!" cried Nikki. "Get us down! We surrender, really!"

"Completely, unconditionally, unreservedly..." Kaltag rambled again.

"Without a fight!" blurted Star before Kaltag kicked him with his free leg.

I looked at Ben and smiled, knowing the beast part had just been one of his games. "Come on, Ben," I cajoled. "Let's cut them down."

He sighed. "Well, I suppose," he conceded with a show of false reluctance. "we be needing that rope they're swingin' from fer haulin' the treasure tomorrow, an' a couple o' sturdy backs fer doin' it wouldn't hurt either."

We tied up Nikki and Kaltag and fashioned a sort of hammock from branches and other forest debris to hang between them for Star to ride on. They had bandaged his leg, mostly a flesh wound, and cleansed it with brandy, but he still claimed it hurt too much to walk on. Back at the cave, Doctor Boris examined the wound and said it would not get infected so long as it was kept clean and not walked on for a few weeks. Star was tied to his stretcher, and Nikki and Kaltag were bound to a tree near Steele's where they spent several hours verbally abusing their washed-up captain before they grew tired.

It took a week to get the treasure on board the ship. Ben, the doctor, and I were sent to bring the A_urora_ to a closer anchorage the first day while the rest were assigned to transport the treasure to shore at the same spot. Nikki and Kaltag were put to work as well, in exchange for food, water, and the captain's promise that we would all put in a good word for them with the judge. We finished loading the treasure, along with Ben's stores of food and all our water barrels re-filled from the springs on the island, at sundown a week after the day we started. Nikki, Kaltag, and Star were locked in the brig, although Doctor Boris made regular visits to tend to the recovery of his patient. Steele was locked up in private quarters for his own safety, and Jenna was given the captain's quarters while the captain bunked with us in the forecastle. Also moved in there was a small trunk she had brought which, she said, contained some things she had brought from home in the hopes of starting over in another land.

I couldn't sleep that first night, tossing and turning in my bunk, and finally I slid out of bed and wandered onto the deck, where the light of a full moon outlined most of the deck except for the yawning shadows of the sails, and moonbeams danced upon the waves. To my surprise, someone else stood there as well. "Ben?" I asked.

He looked my way with a cheery expression on his face. "Balto!" he greeted brightly. "What brings you out here?"

I yawned. "Couldn't sleep," I admitted. "You?"

His smiled dropped a notch, although I saw it less by his mouth than by the abundant hair on his upper lip. "Thinkin'," he replied. He turned his gaze toward the island. "It's strange t' think of, boyo. I've been livin' here all these long years, an' day after day I prayed God would let me off the blasted rock. But now I c'n hardly believe I'm actually goin' home." He paused, then added ruefully, "Funny thing is, I can't recollect-"

Just then a scream split the night, like someone being murdered. I recognized the pitch right away. "Jenna!"

* * *

**What, didn't see that coming? A girl on a ship, there's bound to be trouble (no offense, ladies).**

**Hurry up, Balto. Jenna's life may be at stake. Or worse.**


	29. Steele's Last Hurrah

Ben and I raced to the door of her quarters and found it locked. As Jenna continued to cry for help, and by the sound of it struggle as well, Ben pushed me aside and began throwing himself at the door like a crazed bulldog. But as strong as he was, the door was too well-made to give under his assault.

Everyone else came pouring out of the forecastle, a jumble of questions spilling from everyone's lips at once. Orde bellowed out over the confusion, "What in blazes is going on?!"

"Something's wrong!" I replied, stating the obvious. I jammed a paw toward the cabin. "In there!"

The captain grabbed hold of Ben just before the sea dog began his next charge at the door. "Save your strength, man. I'll handle it." And so saying, he fished the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. With a rush, we threw the door open and charged in.

"What's going on?" demanded Captain Orde. The question wasn't really necessary. There was Jenna, now wearing a pale blue dress adorned with lace. And with her, one arm entrapping hers to her sides and the other wound around her neck, was Steele.

"How did you get in?" demanded the captain.

He answered with a leering grin. "Next time you try to lock me up," he spat, "You'd best pick someplace that hasn't got a window. "Now, I'm taking what's mine: the lady, the ship, and the treasure. Give me the keys to the brig."

"Let her go, Steele," I growled, feeling my fur rise. "We've got you outnumbered."

He chuckled as he released his grip on her neck, pulled a pistol from his belt, and pressed it straight to Jenna's temple. "Think so now?"

We stopped. Taking Steele on was one thing, but not with Jenna's life at stake.

Luk mumbled something, which Muk meekly translated as, "What should we do?"

"Give me the keys and surrender control of the ship," the pirate demanded. "I'll give you to three."

There were tears in Jenna's eyes.

"One…"

"This is low, Steele," spat Orde. "Even for you, this is low."

"Two," the sailor growled, cocking the pistol.

"Wait!" Reluctantly, the captain took the ring of keys from his belt and held them out. "Very well," he submitted. "Now, release the girl."

Steele grabbed the keys, but didn't release Jenna. "One thing first," he growled, pocketing the keys. He grabbed both of her wrists with one hand and stuffed the pistol into his belt before withdrawing a small object from his pocket. "I'm taking her up on her offer."

Jenna struggled, but she was no match for him. But then, as he was about to put the ring on her finger, he stopped and stared at her hand. "What?" he cried.

Everyone stared in confusion.

Enraged, Steele flung his would-be-bride aside and pulled the gun from his belt. "Who did it?!" he demanded. "Who…?"

"I don't know," came a voice from behind him. Jenna had something I couldn't see pressed to the back of his head. "But if you don't drop the gun right now, you'll never know."

Steele froze. "You couldn't possibly…"

"I wouldn't bet on it if I were you," she snapped.

Raising his hands, Steele dropped the gun.

"Pick it up, Balto," Jenna instructed.

I stepped forward and picked up the weapon, stunned at Jenna's iron side. Would she really shoot Steele?

In answer to my unspoken question, she withdrew a wine bottle from behind Steele's head and set it on the table. "And my mother always said those things had no earthly purpose," she remarked as she walked past Steele, giving him a wide berth lest he take her hostage again, and stood with us.

"Bind him to the mast," commanded Captain Orde as we marched the fiend out of the cabin. "Hands tied good and tight behind it. We'll decide what to do with him later."

Once Steele had been tied securely to the mast and fitted with an improvised rope muzzle, Squire Trelawney looked in confusion at Jenna. "What was it that so upset him when he tried to put the ring on your finger?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted, looking at her left hand. Then she stopped, her face a mix of shock, disbelief, fear, a touch of sadness, and some anger for good measure. She held up her hand with the back to us. "This," she replied.

Everyone stared. On Jenna's finger, sparkling in the moonlight, was a ring. It was gold, studded with one large diamond. We were all silent until Ben asked the question on everyone's mind. "Who put that there?"

"I did."

Everyone's eyes turned on me. "I meant no harm," I added quickly.

Orde placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'd like a word with you in private. Now."

* * *

**Uh-oh, he's in for it now...**

**I'm almost done with the whole story, but I plan to post the finale on Balto Source before I put it here, so there may be a slow-down towards the end. If you don't want to wait, go on Balto Source and look for me under the name Dragon Tamer.**


	30. A Tale of Two Trials

I think I can safely say that the talk I had with Orde was the most awkward I'd ever had up to that point in my life. He asked question after question, and finally brought me out without giving any indication as to his decision. He stood me in front of the whole crew, asking Jenna to stand front and center among them.

"Mister Hawkins has told me everything," he stated. "And although what he did leaves some room to question his sanity, I find nothing strictly wrong that he has done."

"What about this?" asked Jenna, holding up the ring.

"I'll leave it to him explain that to you in due time," he replied. Addressing the group, he went on, "As for the present, here is my verdict. Since he has done nothing against Jenna's honor apart from the ring, I will not punish Balto for this. However, Jenna has free reign of retribution – within the boundaries of honor – as she sees fit."

"What does that mean?" Muk whispered to Boris.

"It means that she can do anything she vants to him as long as it is not dishonorable," Boris translated in a voice I think he thought I couldn't hear. After a pause, he added, "In other vords, he's a dead dog."

Orde cleared his throat, breaking off the side conversation. "Also, Balto is not to speak to Jenna for the remainder of the voyage unless she addresses him first or I say otherwise. And they are not to be left unsupervised anywhere except on the top deck. Am I clear?"

I nodded. "Yes Captain."

Jenna nodded too. "Perfectly." She pulled off the ring, walked over to the railing, and threw it out into the sea. I guessed that must have been part of her "retribution," because in a way I felt like she was throwing away a part of me as well.

When the Captain came in to bed down that night, I was rather surprised to see him carrying a hammock.

"Captain?" I asked. "You're not taking a bunk?"

He smiled. "Hardly," he replied. "For my purposes, a hammock is far more comfortable."

I watched in confusion as he tied one end of the hammock to a beam. The other end he took, tied a large knot at the end of the rope, and stuck it through the top of the door frame before pulling the door shut on it.

"What…?" I wondered.

His smile continued. "Jenna may not like you very much at the moment, but it's my responsibility to see to it both of you get to shore with no question of honor."

It took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about, and about half as long to grasp the setup he'd worked out. With the rope as it was, I couldn't get out without giving him a very abrupt awakening in the process. "Don't you trust me?" I asked, feeling insulted.

Easing into the hammock, he let out a chuckle. "_I_ trust you," he replied. "But as I said, I find this arrangement a great deal more comfortable." His chortles were joined by laughter from the other sailors, even Ben. I groaned, wishing I could be so cheery about it.

Steele's trial was quickly arranged the following morning as the crew gathered around the mast where he stood bound.

"Master Steele," the captain said, addressing him formally, "You are in grave trouble. In light of your crimes: piracy, murder, mutiny, and attempting to take Miss Jenna here against her wishes, it would bring some question to my principles if I did not order you hung from the yardarm."

Steele just growled. "However," the captain went on, "In the words of Scripture, 'blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.' Because of this, as well as the fact that I think these young ones have seen enough death already, your life will be spared. You have been sentenced to a far more merciful punishment."

Steele's eyes grew wide. "No," he cried. "Not on this island. Darby's stll out there. He'll kill me!"

"We will leave you with adequate ammunition to defend yourself," the Captain interrupted. "You have proven quite resourceful, I'm sure." He turned to where Ben, Doctor Boris, and the two bears had just finished loading the smallest of our remaining lifeboats. It would get Steele as far as the island, but be pretty much useless after that. I helped the others to put supplies, including a pouch or two of gunpowder and a pistol, into the boat, which was swung out over the side. Orde nodded to Ben, who untied the ropes holding Steele to the mast and then trained a pistol on him with the rest of us except for Jenna, the doctor, Muk, Luk, and myself.

"We will lower you into the water and let you row ashore," said the captain. "If you stop at any time to load your weapons before you reach the sand, you will be shot. Am I clear?"

Steele's eyes were wide and pleading. "Please, have mercy," he begged.

"I am having mercy, far more than you had on all the poor chaps you killed," Orde snapped. "It's your choice, Long John Steele. Live in exile..." he tapped his pistol, "...or not at all."

Steele lowered his head in defeat, and even after all he'd done I almost felt sorry for him. But I looked at Jenna and knew this was the only way she, or any of us, could be safe.

Steele climbed into the boat and was lowered to the water. As soon as it reached the waves and the ropes were hauled up, he began to row for the island. He looked back at us, and even at a distance I could seen the hatred in his icy blue eyes.

As Steele climbed out on shore and unloaded his craft, Orde turned away. "All right, gents," he announced. "Let's head for home."

* * *

**So, Steele finally got his comeuppance, but now Balto's stuck in isolation from the one who once trusted him most of all on the ship, all because he tried to protect her.**

**It's gonna be a looong trip back to England.**


	31. The End?

**Well, we're almost to the end of the story. But before we're done, Balto has some moping, and some mending, to do over a certain redheaded husky.**

* * *

Sailing the ship with only ten of us on board proved difficult. Longer shifts, heavier loads, and slower going thanks to the ship sitting lower in the water than it had. Billy Bones hadn't been exaggerating when he spoke of Flint's hoard. The hold, the ballast, even some of the quarters were occupied with a treasure fit for ten kings. But gold did little to ease our work, or to improve the food. Salted goat's meat got old fast, especially with next to no bread to go with it. Boris asserted that if the pirates hadn't all but ignored the stores of dried fruit, we would have all died of sickness on the way.

Ben was an all-around godsend on that voyage. Before the first day was up, he had devised a system of ropes and pulleys with which we could adjust the sails all at once instead of one at a time. And his cooking wasn't half bad either. Being a world unto himself all those years had treated him surprisingly well, and now that he was back with other dogs, he seemed determined to make himself useful.

Unfortunately, there was one thing Ben couldn't help with: the silence from Jenna. She wouldn't speak to me at all, and since she was up in the crow's nest most of the time (the captain gave her permission to dress as a man while she was at work in the rigging), I hardly ever even saw her. But that didn't stop me from wondering.

Why had I used the ring anyway? She was beautiful, it was true, but I had done it mostly to protect her. She had been through so much, she deserved some protection. But now it seemed I had become an enemy to her. Why? It would have been so easy to just tell her what I had in mind before I did it. But instead I had acted without consent, no better than a thief. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with me.

None of the other sailors mentioned her around me either, though I suspected more than once that it was on their minds. Only Ben broached the subject with me, about five days into the voyage as I was helping him prepare supper.

"That lady husky still not jawin' to yeh?" he asked.

It took me a moment to understand. "No," I admitted. "And I don't see why she would."

He laughed. "Ah, cheer up, lad. She'll get over it. An' if'n ye don't mind me sayin' so, she be a good one for ye."

"Too bad I can't offer her the same," I mumbled. "I'm just a sneaky half-breed. Besides, her father would never allow it."

His face took on an odd smile, and he reached into his pocket and handed me something. It was a carving of dark brown wood, and it looked exactly like Jenna. Exactly. The shape of her face, the angle of her ears, even the fur of the figure looked just like her but for the color.

"I can't give her to yeh," he said, patting me on the back, "But think o' this as a bit o' luck to carry with ye. An' for what it's worth," he added, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper, "If I was her father, I'd let ye have her in nothin' flat, if'n she was willin'."

I smiled, more to humor his kind remark than because I really believed it. After all, she'd never be willing. Why would she be?

Weeks passed, and I admit that even with the exhausting work on the ship, I lost more than a few hours of sleep. Eventually I took to walking up on deck in the evenings. One night about two weeks into the voyage, these walks brought me into touch with the good doctor, who was staring out to sea off the port bow, or front left, of the ship.

"Beautiful isn't it?" he asked when I had stood in silence following his gaze for a few minutes.

I looked out and nodded, but added, "I'll be happier to see the coast of England and the Black Cove again."

He nodded. "Yes, I know vhat you mean." He ran his index feather under his beak. "I too miss the simple days in good old England, vitout all this nonsense about pirates and vhatnot."

"This sure has been a crazy trip," I agreed. "Double-crossed by a friend…"

"Rescued by a stranger…" added Boris.

"And now we're heading home with a shipload of treasure," I wrapped it up.

Boris cleared his throat. "Speaking of treasure," he added slowly, "Vhat about you and…"

I knew before he finished what he was going to say, and in the fraction of a second between words I hoped somehow he wouldn't finish.

"Hello, Balto."

I turned my head to see Jenna walking across the deck in our direction, and swallowed hard. Maybe Boris finishing his remark wouldn't have been so terrible after all. The sway of Jenna's pale-blue dress, combined with the rocking motion of the ship, made it look like she was dancing. Her expression said something else.

"Well, what are the odds?" I asked, trying to mask my unease. She did look nice in a dress. "We were just talking about you."

She stood beside me and put her hand down on the railing. I could hear a soft click of metal on wood as the palm side of the ring struck the rail. "I'm sure you were," she answered.

I blinked. _The ring?_ I thought. It was plainly the same one. A gold band with a large diamond glittering in the center.

Boris craned his neck to look past me. "Didn't you trow dat overboard?" he asked, apparently as confused as I was.

She shook her head. "I only made it _look_ that way," she answered.

I chuckled nervously. "I guess you're probably wondering about it, huh?" I asked.

She looked at me with her eyes narrowed to slits like a cat's. "Well, as a matter of fact, yes."

I gulped. "Uh, yeah. See, I figured one of the pirates might try to hold you to what you said. I found the ring while I was wandering the island, so I slipped into your room that night in the palisade while you were asleep and put it on your finger as a backup plan. I thought if they saw it, they would start arguing among themselves and give you a chance to escape."

"A clever, if highly unorthodox, method of ensuring your safety," Boris put in.

"Stay out of this, please," I muttered.

If my explanation made Jenna feel any better, she showed no sign of it. I was beginning to feel like I was in a staring contest with a statue of Medusa. "Let me see if I understand you," she said in a low voice. "You wanted to protect me from a bunch of pirates, so you put a ring on my finger while I was sleeping, engaged us _without asking me_, and you think I'm going to be happy about it?"

"Actually," Boris interrupted again, "Your promise isn't binding. You said you vould marry the first dog to put a ring on your finger, but Balto is still really a pup."

"Stay out of this," grumbled Jenna without taking her eyes off me.

I gulped. For a girl, she could be very intimidating when she wanted to. "I only did it to protect you. If Steele hadn't tried to put one on your finger, I would have just taken it off some other night or pretended I didn't know where it came from when you realized it was there."

"In other vords…" Boris began.

Jenna and I both snapped our heads in his direction. "Stay out of this!"

He raised his wings as if we were pointing guns at him. "Okay, okay, I'll go." And he waddled off, looking about as indignant as a goose can manage.

Jenna focused her eyes on me again. "If you wanted to take it off, why didn't you? It was there over a week before I noticed it."

I lowered my shoulders. "I tried," I admitted. "But you sleep different on a bunk than you do in a hammock. Every time I tried to take if off, I couldn't move your hand without waking you."

She bit her lip, processing this information. "So," she said slowly, "You weren't actually planning to _hold_ me to it?"

I nodded. "Honest," I assured her. "I just wanted to be prepared in case one of them pulled something." After a long awkward silence I admitted, "I'm sorry, Jenna. I never should have done it without asking like that. Can you forgive me?"

She lightened her focus a little. "There's one more thing I want to know," she persisted. "Did you do it because you thought you owed me a favor for buying us the extra time, or did you really mean it?"

I shivered in the cold twilight breeze. "Well, I really wanted you to be safe if that's what you mean."

She shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean." The edge was returning to her voice, and she prodded my chest with a finger. "Did you really do it just to protect me, or did you do it because deep down you wanted to do it?"

I grinned nervously. "I guess I did want to," I admitted.

She nodded. "In that case…"

I never saw the blow coming. I only knew two things as I stumbled back in surprise: my face was suddenly sideways, and it hurt worse than it had ever hurt in my life. "Ow!" I cried, my paw flying up to the injured area. Who knew such a soft paw could be such a horsewhip?

"That's for doing it without asking," she snapped. Then her face softened. "And this…" she reached up with both hands, took me by the face, and pressed her lips against mine.

_What in the world?!_ I thought. I wanted to pull back, but something stopped me. Her lips were so warm, so soft. I closed my eyes, and like two ships set adrift my arms encircled her of their own accord. We stood like that, how long I don't know, but probably no more than a minute. When I finally pulled away, my brain was as jumbled as a ship's hold after a hurricane. "What was that for?" I managed to ask.

She smiled. "That's for doing it."

I started to stammer. "D...does that mean you…?"

She shrugged. "Well, I'll take you over anyone my father's likely to choose."

To this day I sometimes wonder if that statement was flattering or an almost-insult. For the moment I just shrugged, took her by the hand with the ring on it, and gently kissed the back of her palm.

"I had a feeling this would happen," came a voice from overhead.

Jenna and I looked up. "Captain!" I blurted. There he was, perched on the mast's lower crossbar like Steele's parrot. How he got up there with his bad arm I didn't know and still don't, but it didn't take a genius to know he'd seen everything.

He smiled a tiny bit. "Just behave yourselves," he warned us. "I run a tight ship, you know."

I let go of Jenna's hand very quickly. "Yes, sir."

Jenna and I were hoping to keep the engagement quiet, but unfortunately, that didn't work out too well. The next morning, as Muk and Luk followed Doctor Boris into the ship's dining room for breakfast, I heard them snickering as soon as I turned my back. I looked behind me and saw them elbowing each other, although they immediately stopped and put their paws behind their backs, whistling innocently and looking in any direction but mine, the moment they knew I was watching. I looked to the doctor for an explanation, but he just shrugged and looked away.

My worst fears were confirmed when Jenna came down the stairs, and Muk promptly burst into an ear-splitting rendition of "Here Comes The Bride," accompanied by Luk's nasal humming of the tune.

I could have dropped from embarrassment, and Jenna's cream-colored face took on a hue beneath her fur as red as the rest of her. Captain Orde, for all the effort he made, couldn't stop laughing. And once the wave began, there was no stopping it. Almost as soon as the song began, the crew realized its meaning. Any hope of a quiet breakfast was shattered.

As I lowered my head into my folded arms on the table, Ben nudged me in the ribs. I looked up to see him grinning from ear to ear. "I told ye that woodcarve'd bring ye luck," he whispered.

I just groaned.

Luckily the excitement among the crew died down as quickly as it had begun. Everyone congratulated us, as you'd expect (my arm still hurts sometimes from the squire's powerful handshake), and then went about their business. Aside from some advice from the captain, which we welcomed, and some from Doctor Boris, which we endured, the voyage passed without notable incident. In fact there were only three other matters which need to be mentioned here. One was that the three pirates in the brig turned up missing, along with some supplies and a small bag or two of gold, a few days after Star's leg had healed. Ben confessed to having done it, on the grounds that if he, as a pirate, had received mercy, he didn't feel right shipping them to their deaths. They were, he said, honest enough chaps when Steele wasn't there to order them. The other sailors seemed bothered by this, but Captain Orde decided that there was nothing to do for it now anyway. If they chose never to raise their heads again, that was fine with him.

The other two events, which I mention here because the end of this story wouldn't make sense without them, both happened on the same day, a few days before we reached England. One was that Ben's beard managed to get itself caught in some ropes and a large piece of it had to be hastily cut off with a knife to spare him a painful ordeal.

"Somebody should give that whole lot a proper trim before we get to port," observed the squire when he saw it.

Ben rubbed his uneven mess of a beard. "Yeh think so?" he asked.

Captain Orde cracked a smile. "Unless you want somebody from the zoo to try and pick you up when we get back."

"I could do it," volunteered Jenna.

"You?" asked Boris. "But you are not a hairdresser."

She shrugged. "Well, I used to help my mother cut cloth to make dresses," she replied. "How hard could it be?"

There was some debate, but in the end Jenna won out. Ben sat down in a chair, and Jenna began to cut away at his beard with a pair of scissors borrowed from the doctor. After about an hour of awkward trimming, she stood back to examine her handiwork. "What do you think?" she asked us.

I stifled a laugh when I saw the fruits of her labor. Ben's beard looked as if it had been pruned by a vinedresser working with his left hand and wearing a blindfold. "It's… it's…" I stalled, trying not to say anything that would offend her. I needn't have worried. She was much too busy glaring at Muk and Luk, who were rolling on the deck in hysterics.

"I hope she is better at cooking than trimming," Boris whispered to me, "Or you vill be dead in veek."

I shook my head. Jenna did have her talents, no doubt about it, but she could learn a few things from my mother.

The last thing was that we happened to cross paths with another, somewhat faster ship heading in the same direction, called the _Wydah_. Since they would reach port a day or two ahead of us, Captain Orde ahoyed them and asked if they would deliver a few letters for us in advance. They said they would, and the Squire sent letters to his estate and servants to notify them of the large shipment of gold to come. The captain wrote to the harbor master, informing him that we had important cargo coming in and would need to pull up directly to the docks. I wrote a brief letter to mother, telling her that I would soon be home.

No words could express the joy when we heard Jenna shout "Land ho!" a day or two later. We were close to shore just a few miles up from Black Cove. Every throat on board released a loud cheer.

Captain Orde's letter appeared to have done its work. As soon as the lookout spotted us, he ran up a series of flag signals reading, "Right in." The harbormaster had arranged everything, and we had a swift and easy path right up to the docks.

As we disembarked, it seemed every one of the Squire's servants was there with a horse wagon to receive our valuable treasure. I hardly noticed them, but surveyed the crowd for my mother's white face until finally I saw her weaving frantically through the throng towards the gangplank. I called out to her and then plowed through the gathering and straight toward her like a shot from a cannon. We wrapped our arms around each other for a long moment. I'd forgotten how good it felt to be home.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

I nodded. "More than alright. We've got enough to double the size of the Admiral Benbow and more."

"Forget about the treasure," she scolded. "Do you have any idea how badly I've missed you?"

I choked back a sob. "I told you I'd be back." Then I remembered my manners. "Oh, there's some people I'd like you to meet." I stepped aside and held out my paw, indicating Jenna. "Mother, this is Jenna." I wondered how I could introduce them without mentioning that Jenna and I were engaged, or that she had a history of dressing like a man. "We rescued her from some pirates on the voyage."

Mother's eyes opened a bit at that. "Pirates?" she asked. "That must have been terrible. Did they hurt you?"

Jenna shook her head. "Not really." Apparently as eager to change the subject as I was, she curtsied. "It's very nice to meet you, Miss…"

"You can call me Aniu," Mother answered. "And it's Mrs., by the way, even if…"

Jenna nodded. "Yes, Balto mentioned his father being gone. I'm very sorry."

"It's not your fault," Mother reassured her quietly.

I cleared my throat and pulled at my shirt collar. "And this," I said, pointing to Ben, "is…" I stopped. Mother was staring at him, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Kodan?" she asked. "Is it really you?"

"What?" I asked. "No, his name's Ben."

"Ben…" Mother whispered softly. "That was the name he sometimes used at sea. Ben Gunn."

"How'd ye know my last name?" asked Ben.

Jenna and I just stared at the two of them. "I think your mother might have hit her head while you were gone," Jenna whispered to me.

Then Mother caught sight of Ben's pocket watch dangling on its chain. He had kept it with him all the time since we left the island, though he'd confessed he had no idea why it was important.

"That watch!" Mother cried, holding up her locket. The two looked exactly alike! "It _is_ you!" And to my surprise, she wrapped her arms around Ben and pressed the top of her head up under his chin. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Eh, ma'am," said Ben, looking as if he wanted to escape, "I don't think… well, I've a sort of idea that we've met somehow before, but…"

Mother looked like she might cry. "Your voice hasn't changed a bit," she whispered, seemingly oblivious to the actual words that voice was saying.

"You've met?" I asked, confused.

"I should _hope_ so!" Mother stated emphatically. "Son, this is Kodan. Your father."

I stared from one of them to the other, pinched myself to see if I was dreaming, and stared some more. Finally I focused on Ben… no, on Kodan. My father, who had gone away when I was just a pup? "Father?" I asked. "Is it really you?"

"Uh, I think there may be a mistake here," said Ben a bit uncomfortably. "You look familiar, madam, but I can't recall ever being married to you." Turning to me, he added, "And I can't say I recognize you at all."

My mother's face fell and she drew back enough to look him in the eye. "How can you have forgotten?" she asked.

"Ve know he is suffering from amnesia," explained Doctor Boris, "So it is possible dat he is your husband." Seeing the baffled look on "Ben's" face, he added, "Or dis could just be misunderstanding."

Mother couldn't stop staring at the face in front of her. "I'd know him anywhere," she insisted. She ran a paw over his beard, or at least what Jenna had left of it. "But what happened to your face?"

Boris cleared his throat. "That vould be the vork of new daughter-in-law."

Mother froze, turning slowly to stare at me and Jenna. I glared at Boris. "Nice one," I growled.

He shrugged. "You should not beat around bush, boychick."

As she always did, Mother took the situation quietly. She quietly stiffened up like a board, her eyes quietly rolled back in her head, and she ever-so-quietly... fainted.

**Epilogue**

That was years ago. We rebuilt the Admiral Benbow with a few improvements, helped by the gold recovered from the voyage. Doctor Boris still visits us at least once a week, patients or no patients, for dinner and a quiet evening, and the Squire stops by now and then too. We even see Captain Orde once in a while, when he's in port. We always see to it he gets the best room in the house.

Father has recovered his memory, although he still occasionally slips into the broken English he used while on the island. Mother doesn't seem to mind though, she's so glad to have him back. I wish I could describe the look on her face as she was working with him reconstructing his past, the way she would just glow every time she described something and he actually remembered it. He remembers me too, now, and said one day that he felt bad about having been missing from most of my life. Me, I don't care that he was gone all those years, as long as he's home.

The portrait of him has been repaired by one of the finest artists around, but we keep that rolled up and tucked away now. In its place – in the same frame, even – is a painting we had made to celebrate when Doctor Boris declared Father's amnesia cured. It's a painting of all four of us: him, Mother, myself, and Jenna.

Speaking of Jenna, she lives with Mother's friend where we lived while the Inn was being rebuilt. Even though the Benbow has plenty of spare rooms, Mother and Father said it wouldn't be suitable for her to live here yet, since she and I are engaged. She visits often, though, and has been very helpful in the day-to-day comings and goings of the inn. She gets along quite well with Mother, and with the twins, my brother and sister. That's right, I'm a brother now. My brother's name is Ben, and my sister Jewel, a sort of memorial to the voyage that brought our family back together. Jewel's pretty mild and likes to just sit and listen, especially to stories. Ben, on the other hand, must be born for adventure, and trouble. But both of them are just great to have around.

Yet, as much as I enjoy the life I now live, with a complete family, my home back, and enough money that I know the inn will never be in debt again, I still often find myself gazing out to sea, thinking of the island and the adventure we had there. And often on windy nights, as I lay in bed listening to the gusts howling outside, I can still hear the tales of Billy Bones, the laughter of the pirates, and the voice of Long John Steele's parrot.

_"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"_

**Author's Note**

I have taken some license with the original book to make it better fit the characters of the Balto series. With one or two minor exceptions, though, I have tried to make my historical references, if not all the literary ones, as true as possible to the original setting of Treasure Island, and in fact I was surprised to discover, rather late in the writing, one resemblance that occurred purely by accident: like my own rendition, the original Treasure Island was written as a serial, published between the years 1881 and 1882.

I have been told by a number of people that Treasure Island was a favorite of theirs, a fact which pleases me to no end. My hope is that if you haven't read the original, my own tribute will convince you to read it yourself. And if you have already read this Stevenson classic, pick up another and get started.


End file.
